Last Rites
by ChibiJaime
Summary: In the weeks following Prowl's death, nothing has been the same. But something Lockdown is up to could change everyone's views of what has come to be normal, and threatens to tear apart a family already wrought with sorrow... slash, mild NC, COMPLETE
1. Gears and Glory

I've always thought of myself as a practical mech. I don't grab more than I can carry and if I find myself in a sitch too big for me to process, I know when it's the smart thing to bail. But once in a blue moon, an opportunity springs up that you just can't pass up. A perfect hit. That unsurpassed score.

No bounty hunter can pass that up. Not even me...

_**Last Rites**_

_Part One: Gears and Glory_

It did not take long for word to pass... at least not around Cybertron. According to what was said, the funeral had been stunning. There were precious few faces that were not in attendance at the gathering dedicated to the life and sacrifice of the cyberninja Prowl, whose actions had saved not just one small organic world, but also Cybertron itself. Those in attendance had spoken of the shining words of praise spoken of him by his teammates and closest companions, and the post-humous honor of being one of the few non-military personnel to receive the Elite Guard's prestigious Sun of Valor... normally awarded to those members of the guard who have shown courage and loyalty above and beyond the call of duty.

The surprise was the fact that the brave young mech's commander and team had declined having him interred among Cybertron's greatest heroes. Instead, they chose a foreign land... the beautiful organic planet he had so admired. Through talks with the mayor of the city of Detroit, Michigan, it had been decided that Prowl's body would be laid to rest in a mausoleum just big enough to house his frame, at the very edge of a military cemetery near the outskirts of the city. It was the least they could do, the Autobots had been told, for the sacrifice Prowl had made to save thousands of lives.

It was this particular piece of information that eventually reached the bounty hunter Lockdown. He leaned back in his seat, gazing with a great deal of contemplation at the endless field of stars before him. It was a painful thought, but at the same time, as details of the ninja's unfortunate passing and the honors given to him in the wake of his death filtered through, he began to think. He didn't have to be a medic or a scientist to realize that kind of death wasn't really a true death. Oh no. There were ways... mechs... prices that could be paid to do dark things that could give life where it had been lost.

He leaned forward, red optics gleaming. Maybe it was a long-shot, but wasn't it worth it? He'd wanted that mech's body. But the opportunity to have his spark, too?

It was too beautiful.

Grinning at his own thoughts, the merc gunned his ship. He had someone to find...

*****

Earth clean-up was depressing. None of the Autobots really wanted to discuss what had happened. Sari had spent most of the time after the others had returned curled quietly at home, or with Bumblebee, not wanting to let anyone in her small family out of her sight for too long. Her fears weren't entirely unfounded, after all. There were concerns now... rogue Decepticons still roaming the galaxy, now seeking vengeance for the downfall of their leader. There were reports of uprisings and murders and deaths, but these were all things no one wanted to think about. Least of all the Autobots on Earth. They were still focused on the all-too-real loss of a teammate. A dear friend. A member of their family.

And, for one lonely mech, his spark's other half.

For Jazz, nothing cut deeper than the hollow residing in his spark. He had only spoken to Ratchet about it, and that had only been when the medic had insisted. He had not told Ratchet why, though he was certain the mech had guessed, and he had made certain to ghost over the fact that he and Prowl had spark bonded not long after getting to know one another. He had followed decorum and shown only what grief was appropriate at Prowl's funeral. He'd wanted to break down, but he'd maintained composure.

But he felt like he was breaking from the inside out.

He wouldn't tell anyone this, of course. He simply buried himself in his work, accepting energon when it was offered to him, resting only when he needed to. As far as he could figure, if he focused as much as he could on his work, he wouldn't be focusing on that awful sense of loss that tore at his spark with every passing moment.

Now he remembered what the mechs who raised him had told him to be true. To lose one's mate was to lose a piece of one's self, and it was the very same reason that led so many who suffered through that trauma to suicide.

Jazz knew, though, that he couldn't allow himself to give in like that. He was a cyberninja... among the very last practiced in the ancient arts. It was something he couldn't allow to die. To do so would be an insult to all of those who had died for it before him.

Sitting there on the skeleton of a building in the process of being rebuilt, he let these thoughts just pass through his processor, trying not to linger on any one for too long. Unfortunately, that was when he noticed a figure a few buildings away, standing and watching the setting sun, an axe gripped firmly in his right hand. He recognized the frame, and sighed. That was another reminder... he was not the only one whose spark was aching from all this mindless death.

Expression unchanging, he stood, vaulting gracefully from rooftop to rooftop until he landed in a silent crouch behind the young Prime. "Yer lookin' a bit lonely up here, OP. Mind some company?"

Optimus Prime just gave a quiet sigh, his hand relaxing as he placed his axe into its normal place at his back. "Fine by me."

For a while, the two sat in silence, with Optimus standing and Jazz moving to sit on the ledge next to him, one knee drawn up as the other leg dangled. Finally, the cyberninja elite gave a soft sigh, glancing up. "This wasn't your fault, y'know. No one coulda stopped Prowl. He did what he wanted to do. He saved a whole lotta lives doin' it."

"We could've found another way," Optimus responded, tone firm, and yet somehow unsure. "He didn't have to... to die for this."

His words struck the same tune that Jazz had been replaying in his head since the moment Prowl's decision became clear to him. His own words, crying out to the other cyberninja, trying to convince him to back away from that brink... to listen to reason.

But Prowl was having none of it, and in that sad, loving smile, had said his goodbyes and made it clear that this was what he wanted to do... and the only thing they could've done in the small fragment of time they had left before the bombs inside the Omega Supreme clones leveled Detroit and killed everyone.

Jazz finally sighed, shaking his head. "He wouldn't have had it, Optimus. You know how he could be. Stubborn as the Pit and..." He trailed off. "He was resolute. Trust me. I couldn't stop him when he did it." Guilt tinged his words, now, and he lowered his head, avoiding allowing the young commander's optics to find his behind the visor. "All I could do was stand there and watch."

He watched Optimus's fists clench, but he knew the reaction wasn't at him. It was stupid to think that it might be. Optimus obviously cared deeply for his crew, and to lose one of them like this... it must have struck him hard. "It's not your fault, Jazz," he finally murmured. "None of us could've stopped Prowl... not once his mind was made up." His fists clenched. "All we can do now is respect Prowl's memory... move on. Detroit needs us, and so does Cybertron."

"So if Cybertron needs us, why don't you take the truth about what happened between you an' Sentinel to the top?" Jazz's expression was unreadable, even when Optimus spun to face him. "Don't look at me like that. Prowl had a feeling something wasn't right... told me so himself. Seeing you an' Sentinel, and hearin' what he said? Watching how he worked? I think somewhere, the truth got twisted and you wound up in the middle'a nowhere. Ain't sayin' it didn't work out for your benefit in the end." He stood. "Otherwise, you never woulda met your team... or Prowl. I trust his judgement, if no one else's. Ain't gonna push if you don't wanna tell. But I'm here if y'wanna let loose."

Optimus frowned, watching as Jazz stood and turned to walk over to the ledge. "Jazz." When the cyberninja turned, he opened his mouth... but his vocalizer froze. The words he wanted to say just wouldn't come. "Thank you. I'll keep that in mind."

He watched as Jazz nodded, then vaulted, dropping gracefully to the street below. As soon as he was out of optic and audioshot, he sighed and sunk down to sit, knees drawn up, head in one hand. How was he supposed to keep going, when everything seemed so wrong...?

*****

It was an annoying sensation. He was well aware his small craft should not have stopped moving, and yet, here he was. Stuck in an area of uncharted space with no way to hail for help. And worse, even if he could pick up a comm, he knew there were precious few frequencies he could try without ending up on an unfriendly one. He dared not ask what else could go wrong. That never ended well.

As it stood, Swindle's fears were well founded. Not long after he had come to a screeching halt in some Allspark-forsaken dead sector of space, the power on his ship gave out, throwing him into a thick, jarring dark even the stars outside weren't piercing. This was no ordinary dark... not by a long shot.

Someone was on his ship.

Before he could even put a hand on his firearm, he felt the sudden prick of some sort of bladed weapon against the softer, much more vulnerable metal of his throat. "Now, now, Swindle," purred the thick, heavy voice of his unexpected guest. "Is that any way to treat an old friend? I haven't seen or heard from you in vorn. I think we need to catch up."

"Lockdown?" Swindle was careful to let no fear register in his tone. The bounty hunter was up in vorn, but he was by no means any less sharp... physically or mentally. "Well I'll be. What brings you to this remote little star system?"

Lockdown gave a low, throaty chuckle. "Isn't it obvious? I need info, and you owe me a favor for saving your skid on that Solerian space port all those stellar cycles ago."

Without missing a beat, Swindle flashed a winning grin, his optics finally making the slow switch over to night vision. "Mm. That I do, don't I? I'll certainly see what I can get for you. What did you have in mind?"

Ruby optics glowed into stark violet as Lockdown allowed himself a casual smirk. "Smart mech." As he stepped around, one foot drew up the copilot seat, his hook trailing along Swindle's throat. "I need the coordinates for the spiral planet... Quintessa. Got a dirty job to do, and the Quintessons are the only race other'n us with intimate knowledge of how the Allspark works... and how to manipulate it."

If nothing else caught Swindle's attention, that did. As Lockdown sat back, he leaned forward. "Whoa there, Lockdown. If you're looking for the Quints... because they can manipulate the Allspark..." He arched a brow ridge. "You wouldn't happen to be trying to resurrect the offlined, now, would you...?"

"And if I was?" Lockdown casually fired back.

Swindle gave a faint chuckle. "Well, if you were, that'd cost you. Information like that doesn't come cheap, even when you call in a favor."

It was unnerving, the way Lockdown suddenly began to chuckle. He slapped his knee as the spontaneous gaity increased in volume, head thrown back as he howled with laughter. For a moment, Swindle didn't react, both baffled and a bit frightened. It was when he finally began to nervously chuckle himself that Lockdown moved.

In an instant, the bounty hunter was on top of him, knee shoved against the con artist's chestplate as his hook came to rest with the tip against his neck... right at the back, above the spinal relay connection. Their faces were dangerously close, and Lockdown was no longer smiling. "Wrong answer." He lifted Swindle's chin with a fingertip. "I'm gonna give you a pass this time. Just this once. You've got a sweet bounty on your head... enough energon to retire on and upgrades that'd make Omega Supreme writhe. Somethin' about some big-wig Decepticon supporter you double-crossed. I'm giving you a favor. I'll let you go. But that means you'll owe me... and how 'bout we make that info I'm looking for the payment?"

Swindle immediately froze. "Sure! Sure, whatever you say, old pal!" He swallowed. "But I can't give you the coordinates all casual-like. You get what we need for this... ah... delicate mission. Okay? You bring it back to me and I'll take you there personally. Deal?"

"Deal," Lockdown replied, not moving from where he was perched. "Just remember, mech. If you try to pull a fast one on me, I will hunt you down." His hook tapped lightly against the back of Swindle's neck. "You know I will. You know I can. You've got the choice, old pal, so just keep in mind... the bounty on your head even applies if your spark ain't functioning."

It took only the span of time within which Swindle's optics flickered for Lockdown to vanish. The lights came up and the ship rumbled to life, leaving Swindle to sit there bewildered in the all too suddenly empty ship.

Sighing, he pressed a hand to his forehead. Great.

He knew he had no choice but to do exactly as he was told.

*****

On Earth, the days continued to drag on, and for a girl who had seen the Autobots as the only family she had outside of an eccentric, absent-minded father, the loss of one of their own had been particularly striking. Sari was relatively quiet, sitting in the main rec room of the plant with her knees drawn up to her chest, red hair twisted into two braids that hung to her shoulders, pale blue eyes half-closed. Bumblebee sat near her, occasionally shifting uncomfortably, glancing over to the girl. "...you okay, Sari?"

"Oh, sure," Sari responded, tone unapologetically biting. "I'm just fine, Bumblebee. One of our best friends just died and he's never coming back. Half the city is destroyed, and while everyone may be thankful to the Autobots, it's obvious folks are scared. Even of me." She wiped her eyes, shoulders trembling. "So sure, Bumblebee! I'm just fine!"

Wincing, the yellow mech reached down, scooping the girl into his hand, where she simply sat glowering at him, tears glittering at the corners of her eyes. "Look, I didn't mean it that way. I'm just worried... about you and everyone else." Giving a weak smile, he leaned his head down until her forehead could touch his. "We'll get through this. You'll see."

Sari sighed, reaching up to press a hand against a spot next to where her forehead was resting. "Says you. I can feel that you're hurting. But then... I guess we all are, huh?" She didn't move more than that, curling her knees in tightly. "It just feels like the world is falling apart. Aside from Dad, you guys are the only family I've ever known. And now Prowl's--..."

The girl's voice broke as she spoke the cyberninja's name, her free hand lifting to scrub tears from her cheeks even as it trembled. Bumblebee, at a loss for anything else to do, lifted his free hand to catch a stray tear with the very tip of one finger. "Leaking's not gonna bring him back, Sari, but I know how you feel. We'll get through it together, okay? You and me." A pause. "...uh... and Bulkhead and the others too."

Both of them fell silent for a while until finally, Sari sighed, sitting back to smile up at her friend. "I want to go out to the cemetery." When Bumblebee gave her a startled look, she reached up to poke his forehead lightly. "Last time we were there, there were hundreds of people. I just want to go up and say goodbye. Just the two of us. We might even run into Jazz up there."

"Jazz?" Bumblebee sounded puzzled. "Why would Jazz be up there?"

That finally brought a smile to Sari's face and she rubbed his forehead where she had poked before carefully climbing down. "I'll explain later. C'mon."

*****

The mausoleum at the top of the hill was very plain. A simple building at the edge of a military graveyard where human heroes from Detroit were honored for their service abroad and at home. That the humans saw fit to honor a fallen Autobot here was a true testament to how they felt for the lives saved at the loss of one. Jazz was settled quietly nearby, his fingertips tracing the words carved into the side nearest to where he was sitting. Here, a bizarre assortment of symbols and markings indicated Cybertronian, where it had been carved by some friends of his that had offered their assistance.

-He lived a warrior, and died a hero. Let his spark join the Well of All Sparks... the greatest of Cybertron.-

The words echoed in human English on the other side, but this side... this side spoke to Jazz. A language he knew in unfamiliar setting, words that stung him to his core. He could hear murmuring nearby. Humans that wanted to pay their respects. Many of them had been among those unable to escape the buildings saved during Prowl's final sacrifice.

No one bothered the lithe cyberninja. They steered clear of him, occasionally glancing up at him as they passed, but none stopped to speak to him. Jazz preferred it that way. He could bask for a while in the peace, grieving for his lost mate without anyone to interrupt his reverie.

And it was this very distraction that prevented him from realizing the danger approaching.

It wasn't until he heard a few humans screaming, and saw them scattering from the mausoleum, that he turned, only to be greeted by a tired heel cracking across his jaw. When he landed, sprawled mere feet from the stone wall of the building, he immediately drew into a defensive crouch, turning to face whoever it was that had assaulted him on this hallowed ground. "Lockdown!"

"Hello, Jazz," the bounty hunter crooned in reply. "Long time no see. Miss me?"

Jazz's optics narrowed behind his visor as he shifted his posture. "Hardly. What the slag do you want?"

Chuckling faintly, Lockdown only shrugged, rolling his shoulders dismissively. "That hurts, mech. I'm here and I get to see you outside a fight for the first time since I ditched Yoketron's stuffy control, and all you do is ask what I want? You cut me clean to the core, Jazz."

"You heard me." Jazz's tone lacked any joviality or mirth. "What. do. you. want."

Slowly, Lockdown moved forward, his optics skimming the words in Cybertronian etched into the side of the mausoleum. "Same thing you want, mech. Closure. Answers, for why such a promising life got snuffed out so quickly. And a way to make all that seem like so much bad code."

Jazz froze, following Lockdown's movements with a stern gaze. "What are you talking about?"

Lockdown just grinned. "What else? Thing is, Jazz... I need the body inside this hunk of rock in order to make it a reality. And you're either gonna give it to me... or I'll kill you and take it anyway. Your choice."

"You're out of your mind!" Jazz snapped, immediately coming up into a combat-ready pose. "No way in the Pit am I letting you take Prowl's body! He earned his rest! And whatever you plan on doing to mess with his remains, you'll have to do it over my cold, sparkless frame!"

The response from Lockdown was a long, low chuckle. "If that's what you want, mech... fine by me!"

He wasted no time in lunging, and the hook on his right arm caught Jazz off-guard, snagging his shoulder joint and tearing away some wires before the cyberninja tore free, instinctively blocking away the pain and leaking fluids as he swept his left leg out, intending to knock the bounty hunter's legs out from under him. The tactic worked only briefly, as Lockdown braced gracefully on the fall, managing to torque Jazz's knee with a swift back-kick in the process.

Jazz knew what he had to do. He had to get Lockdown away from the mausoleum... away from Prowl. He had no idea how he was going to manage... if he was even going to be able to succeed. He was exhausted, and his reaction time was painfully slowed by the lack of recharge he'd gotten in the past several weeks since that final fateful battle. But for the time being, he was managing to match Lockdown blow-for-blow, even if he was taking more damage than he was giving. He would win this, even if he had to die trying.

In the back of his mind, he did his best to ignore how likely that outcome could be. Lockdown's hook scraped his helm, and dug a deep trench in his chestplate, but so far, he was at least holding his own. His misstep came when he went for a tackle, moving in too early. The bounty hunter grabbed his arm, shoving him hard against the marble wall of the mausoleum, pinning him down as he flipped his hook over to the chainsaw attachment.

The pain was almost as tangible audibly to Jazz as it was physically, crying out as the weapon cut deeply into his side and then into his right leg, rendering him unable to rise up to strike at the dark mech who was now striding closer to the goal he'd fought so hard to prevent.

He knew it was futile, but he pushed himself up when Lockdown tossed him casually aside, crushing a few nearby headstones in the tumble. "Don't you dare, Lockdown!"

But the merc did not listen. He simply revved the chainsaw again, and with one smooth swipe, he completely tore the roof off the monument to an Autobot whose life had ended all too suddenly. He didn't even regard Jazz when he reached inside, lifting the body with one hand, looking somewhat amused at how it went limp in his grasp. "Gray," he commented absently. "Always hated that color. Even when turning in a bounty. Never liked looking at the dead ones. Don't you agree, Jazz?"

Jazz was too furious to answer, trying to drag himself closer, jaw clenched. "Put him down!"

By this point, he could hear shouting in the distance. The voices belonged to Sari and Bumblebee, who – on their approach – had likely heard the commotion. As other humans would've likely confirmed their worst fears, they would be rushing up the path right now to Jazz's aid. Sirens were sounding in the background as well; that was a sure sign that the Detroit Police Department was on the case as well.

The cyberninja was well aware, however, that by the time they arrived, it would be too late. He reached out, trying desperately to get a grip on Lockdown's leg, but he missed as the disgraced ninja took a step back. "Sorry, Jazz. You'll thank me later."

He turned, then, making a graceful leap as he sped out of view to wherever he'd stashed his ship. Jazz barely noticed Bumblebee shooting past him, or Sari stopping near his side to insist Ratchet was on his way. He was too focused on screaming obscenities after Lockdown, trying to drag himself forward, helpless to do anything but watch as Prowl's body was carried to Allspark-knew-where...

...and all he could do was hope they could track them down before whatever the bounty hunter was planning came to fruition.

_**To Be Continued...**_


	2. Agent of Chaos

I couldn't stop him. I tried. I did what I could, but nothing I could've tried would've stopped the inevitable.

Prowl, please forgive me. I did what I could to make sure he wouldn't desecrate your body, but... Allspark, whatever he does to you, I can only hope that in the end, we'll be able to get you back. If not, I swear to all, I'll kill him with my bare hands...

_**Last Rites**_

_Part Two: Agent of Chaos_

Jazz was silent as Ratchet worked on repairing his injuries to the best of his ability. The medic was not matching his gaze, and Jazz was not sure he wanted him to. Really, no one was looking at the cyberninja. The feeling of defeat was permeable in the makeshift medbay, and not a single spark there was willing to admit it.

"Lockdown got away," Bumblebee reported solemnly, Sari perched dutifully on his shoulder with her hand resting gently against his cheek. "I chased him as far as Lake Erie, but that's when his ship took off. I couldn't follow."

There were murmurs of reassurance, and Optimus gripped the edge of the table near where he stood. "Don't worry about it, Bumblebee. You did your best. Right now, we need to focus on where Lockdown is and how we can get Prowl's body--..." He trailed off. "We need to get Prowl back. That's what's important."

Everyone nodded, murmuring, as Ratchet just leaned further into his work, mouth drawing into a tight line as he got into the more delicate work at the leg. Jazz sighed. "I'm sorry. I was... I got distracted. If I'd been paying attention..."

"No use in blaming yourself, young mech," Ratchet grumped, jabbing Jazz's side with a finger. "You did what you could and that's commendable all by itself. Do you have any idea what Lockdown might be planning?"

After a moment or two of contemplation on the subject, Jazz gave an involuntary shiver, causing Ratchet to jerk his hands back to avoid the laser scalpel he was holding cutting through an important line on the cyberninja's leg. "He said somethin' about makin' what happened to Prowl disappear... like bad code."

Bulkhead furrowed his browridge. "What could he mean by that?"

"Hard to say." Optimus frowned, his own browridge creasing as he folded his arms tightly over his chestplate. "He could be up to any number of things. It's not like he can reverse time, so that possibility's out..."

Sari rubbed the back of her head, crossing her legs at the ankles. "Maybe he's trying to build a clone or something? Or... make Prowl into a zombie?"

Looking puzzled, Bumblebee craned his neck to give her a wry look. "Isn't a zombie one of those fleshy human-processor-eating things from those weird horror movies you like to watch?"

"Hey, I just threw it out there as a suggestion." The techno-organic girl folded her arms over her chest with an air of indignation, frowning as she turned her attention toward the others. "But... is it even possible to do something like that? Resurrect a shell as some kind of lifeless drone?"

The question drew a shudder from Ratchet, who hunched his shoulders as he welded together the malleable metal of Jazz's upper thigh. "I've heard of it being done, but the process is pretty gruesome. Usually, the body used ends up damaged beyond any repair. If that's what Lockdown plans on doing, there's a pretty slim chance we'll recover Prowl's body in one piece."

Those words caused Jazz to sit up sharply, ignoring Ratchet's loud protest. "Then we need to stop him! We can't let him do that to Prowl! It ain't right! Prowl'd do the same to keep him from doing that to any of us... it's only right we try to protect him the same way!"

"It's not that I don't agree with you, Jazz, but there's one primary problem." When Jazz jerked his attention toward the young Prime, Optimus sighed quietly. "We don't know where Lockdown is. He could've taken Prowl anywhere in the known universe, and Omega Supreme can only travel so far so fast. Even tracking them with space bridge tech won't help, because there's no guarantee he's using a space bridge. I'll get word back to Cybertron. Hopefully, someone will be able to help us out."

Ratchet gave an agreeing nod. "In the meantime, you really need to just rest, Jazz. You took some hard hits and lost a lot of energon in that fight. We'll find Lockdown... and Prowl. We've just got to pool our resources and our processors and hope for the best. In the end... it's all we really can do."

Though he gave a solemn nod, it was visibly obvious that Jazz was not at all happy with the plan. In his current state of repair, however, he had no choice but to agree with the decisions and statements of the others. "Yeah. Right." He tensed a bit, leaning back to watch the medic get back to work. "But that don't mean I gotta like it.

*****

The trip was long and the extensive period spent in uncharted space sometimes wore away at a mech. Sanity wasn't a problem. By now, Lockdown was used to these extended forays into the vast darkness of the universe, pits between galaxies and petrorabbit hops from star system to star system. Right now, he had his ship on autopilot, turned so he could look at the strapped down, lifeless body that had once housed the spark of the only mech he considered to be his physical and mental equal.

"Prowl, Prowl, Prowl..." He sighed, climbing to his feet as he walked over to lean against his work table, gazing down at the still gray form with a scrutinizing expression. "Shoulda known you'd go off and do something stupid like getting your damn self offlined. Not that it matters, in the end. When we're done, all that messy business is gonna be behind us and none of that is gonna even be close to your mind." A grin crossed his face. "When it's all over... the only mech you'll ever wanna turn to again is me."

He trailed his hook lightly along one of the "wings" that protruded from Prowl's shoulder, smirking again as he pushed away to walk back to his seat. "Not too much longer now. Just gotta find that fragger and we'll be off to Quintessa. That's the ultimate goal here, after all. Only the Quintessons have the knowledge we need." Grinning, he checked his radar monitor. "And then... everything'll be right back the way it should be."

For some time, he just piloted in silence, waiting for the familiar beacon to appear on his screen... and when it finally did, he allowed himself a vicious grin. "There you are, Swindle. Good thing you weren't trying to hide... that could've gotten messy for you."

As he approached the other mech's ship, he fell silent. Swindle was making no attempt to run, which was a smart move on his part. He apparently, at the very least, knew better. After he had docked, he lifted the lax shell of Prowl's body over his shoulder, and strode casually between the ships.

"I was starting to think you were just gonna leave me all alone out here," Swindle commented as Lockdown made his way onto the bridge. He was mock pouting, leaning back in his chair with his legs crossed. "Would've been downright rude."

Lockdown gave a chuckle, hefting the lifeless body onto an empty table. "Right. Like you would've cared if it was rude or not. I'm pretty sure you'd've been happy as can be if I'd gotten caught on this little endeavor."

To be perfectly honest, Swindle couldn't help but wince at the sight of the shell being tossed down without any common decency whatsoever. "You? You wound me, Lockdown. That'd be cruel of me to say something like that." Not once did his violet optics leave Prowl's body. "So... this the mech we're taking to Quintessa?"

"I've got a hunch he can be brought back pretty simple." The bounty hunter rolled his shoulders, strapping the body down to keep it from moving as he settled into the copilot seat. "I've got enough creds for payment. Let's hope the Quintessons are as generous as you've told me."

Swindle actually snorted a bit. "Generous may not be the right word for it. But they do know when they're being paid well. And they know what they're doing. All you have to do is live up to your part of the bargain and we're home free." He glanced at the bounty hunter as he turned to get the ship started up. "What about your ship?"

Lockdown shrugged. "It's safe here. Got a remote cloak on it. Once I'm so far away, it'll cloak itself automatically. No one'll even know it's there. It'll just look like some rogue piece of radioactive space junk."

The pair fell into silence as they continued along, despite that Swindle had originally suspected Lockdown would have more questions about the particulars of this endeavor than he was actually asking. It took some time, but finally he sighed, leaning back. "So. Just what's so important about this mech that we're dragging his empty shell all the way to Quintessa?"

That actually caused Lockdown's expression to shift from casual disinterest to a strange, twisted brand of determination. "Let's just say he sparked my interest. I've never had someone able to best me in a fight like him... or able to give me a run like that. He's fought me to my knees on more than one occasion, and even out-smarted me. If it was just his mods I was after, I'd rip 'em off his body right now and be done with it..."

"But it's more important than that," Swindle remarked. He really wished he could keep that uneasy, sick feeling from crawling up his spinal relay. He kept reminding himself that he was getting paid well for this gig, but even that wasn't easing the sense of unpleasantness that hung in the air over this whole thing. Con artist he may have been, but even he had his standards. He had only visited Quintessa a few times himself, and even then it had been to pick up items he could sell for a tidy profit once he'd had them. It was a forbidden planet to Cybertronians, simply because of the less-than-moralistic ways the Quintessons operated. And one of the greatest taboos he could think of – one of the few he adhered to at all – was to bring the dead back to life. "Well, I'm not going to judge you for this, mech. I'm getting paid well, and the Quints'll get their fair cut, so... all's well that ends well, I guess!"

If Lockdown noticed that his business parter was ill at ease, he didn't show it. He only smirked, stretching lithely before returning to the coordinates that were leading them toward their final destination.

When that strange, twisted planet finally appeared in the viewscreen, the bounty hunter grinned while the con artist barely suppressed a shudder. He didn't much care to be here, for while he could often score a decent item or two, what Lockdown planned on doing here still set chills coursing through him.

But at this point, he was more than well aware that there was no turning back.

*****

A different mech may have been genuinely unnerved by what he saw upon his arrival to the strange planet with its twisting rings, like a mobius strip of oddly soft metal. They were "welcomed," such as the case stood in Lockdown's opinion, to the spiral world by a strange looking mechanical being who called himself Overseer Vashik. His appearance was almost grotesque. A relatively normal torso of that same, soft alloy, with many-jointed tentacles – three from each socket – protruding from either shoulder. He moved about on even more of the unusual tentacle protrusions, and spoke through a loose fanged jaw on a large, bulbous head that sat rather precariously atop the flimsy torso. His optics were red, though not a shade that put Lockdown any more at ease.

At least Swindle seemed to be getting along with him just fine. "Overseer Vashik! Long time no see." He flashed that obnoxiously charming grin. "Like I said, I'm here with some company. This is an old business acquaintance of mine... Lockdown. Don't let that grizzled appearance fool you. He's a decent sort of guy when he feels like it, and he's got good cred to pay you for a very serious job he needs done."

"I see." The Quintesson turned to face Lockdown then, giving him a full glance over before it grunted. "We will speak to Judge Deliberata. He will hear your request and decide if it, and your payment, are worth the time of the noble Quintessons."

The bounty hunter only grinned, falling into step beside Swindle as they headed toward a tall, spindly building some distance ahead. "Trust me. I'll be making you an offer that's hard to resist."

*****

Negotiations had gone relatively smoothly once he had met the strange, five-faced leader of the Quintessons. Now he stood in a mostly dark room, a number of Quintesson scientists slithering around the inert, grayed body of Prowl. He had made a few things clear in the midst of the bargain. The cyberninja was to be completely loyal to him. He would have no connections to his past life. Whatever happened, Lockdown would be his primary concern. He would do whatever Lockdown wanted of him, and then some.

This was going to be glorious.

Leaning against the wall, he listened. The Quintessons spoke in a strange language of hissing to one another, and he could only assume they were ordering one another to do a variety of different tasks. Lines and tubes feeding power and fluids to the still shell were attached, and a strange device was placed over the empty spark chamber. Whatever the Quintessons were up to, Lockdown was certain the final result was going to be rather spectacular.

"More power to the drives," one of the lead scientists ordered, and as a strange electrical buzzing rose in the air, the odd device began to glow a bright, powerful blue. "Throw the switch!"

Another scientist did just that, and all at once, the device thrust a strange, needle-like device into the spark chamber of the dead body, and the sudden jolt of energy caused the body to buckle, back arched up off the table. The air crackled with electricity and Lockdown visibly drew back, one arm coming up to protect his face. "What the slagging...?!"

A scientist hushed him. "Do not interrupt!" it ordered. "The process is working! Look!"

He didn't want to, but he turned to stare as the body sagged back to the table. Color was already starting to return to the limbs as they began to shift, a low, pained groan rising in the vocalizer. The head turned, a hand clenched, and inside a spark chamber that had been vacant, a blue glow began to pulse. "He's alive," he breathed. "You sorry scraps did it! He's alive!"

The first scientist bobbed excitedly on his tentacles. "Yes! Alive! And completely subservient to your commands! We ran many tests... ensured this was the spark you were looking for. Go, test the results. He is yours, body and spark."

Lockdown was skeptical, but he wasn't the sort to brush aside an opportunity to test a theory. Thoughtfully he strode forward, using one claw to tip Prowl's head up so that the faint glow of his optics, currently an odd shade of blue-tinged purple, were focused on his face. "Hey there, mech," he all but purred. "We're gonna go to earth... and trash some of your old friends. Whataya got to say about that?"

"Anything you say, Lockdown," Prowl mumbled in a tired, faint reply. "I'll do anything you say..."

Immediately, Lockdown grinned wickedly. "Perfect."

*****

The journey back to Earth was going to be interesting. After... coercing Swindle into returning he and his new "partner" to his ship, he'd decided to see exactly how far he could push the ninja before he fought against the unusual form of force. Prowl, it seemed, was willing to agree with every little thing Lockdown insisted he do, and he had to admit, it was nice. Almost nice enough to convince him not to return to the little blue and green planet.

But he had things to do, and revenge to carry out. So as much as he was enjoying having his way with the lithe, and totally willing black and gold cyberninja, he knew he needed to focus on the task at hand. He wanted those Autobots to pay for humiliating them, and what better way to dish out some cold, hard revenge than at the hand of one of their former teammates?

"What do you think, Prowl?" he asked casually, trailing his hook down the cyberninja's jawline. "Ready to rip apart the mechs who left you to die?"

"Yes," Prowl responded without hesitation. "I'll do anything for you."

Lockdown just chuckled, glancing up at the viewscreen. Earth had recently appeared on it, and he stretched lithely, laughing. "Well, you're going to get your chance. They had every opportunity to save you, and they didn't. Look where that got them! I'm the one that saved you, Prowl. You're alive because of me. Don't you ever forget that."

The sleek Autobot, his expression a clear showing of loyalty and devotion, watched Lockdown's every move intently. "I never will."

*****

Jazz was restless. And who could blame him? He was mostly recovered from the injuries he'd sustained in the fight with Lockdown, but that didn't mean he was settled. They were still trying to track wherever it was Lockdown had gone, but thus far, they'd been met with nothing but failure from all angles. It was bothering him. Why had Lockdown taken Prowl's body to begin with? What had he wanted? What was his angle?

He was mostly ignoring anyone around him. He didn't speak when Bumblebee and Sari spoke to him, and looked away when Optimus tried to make optic contact. His primary concern was getting Prowl back from that sicko, and he was trying to formulate a plan. Anything that would help find that sick slagger and bring Prowl's body back in one piece. Hopefully without whatever it was Ratchet was talking about happening to him.

Controlling someone's shell for some sick, perverted...

A shudder rippled through his frame. He didn't want to think of whatever it was Lockdown had planned. Didn't want to focus on that. And yet...

His thoughts were cut off when he heard Bumblebee yelling through the base. There was someone tearing up some of the construction sights in downtown Detroit, and he couldn't at all believe what he was hearing.

The perpetrator looked exactly like Prowl.

*****

The Autobots arrived to the scene of the wreckage in very short order after the report came in, and much to the dismay of many, it seemed the initial rumors were true. There, standing in the ruins of a demolished building, was the sleek black and gold mech, wearing the armor he'd stolen from Lockdown, his posture and poise every bit as perfect and calm as it had been before he had died.

"What kind of magic trick is this...?!" Ratchet hissed. "If he was just a glorified puppet, he wouldn't be moving like this..."

Optimus stiffened. "A different spark in his body...?"

The young Prime's voice seemed to trigger the cyberninja to action, and before he could blink, Prowl lunged, shuriken slicing through his midriff before he landed a firm kick right to the injured spot, sending Optimus tumbling through what was left of a nearby wall.

"That's not a different spark," Jazz breathed. "That's Prowl!" He clenched his jaw. "Prowl! Snap out of it, mech! We're your friends!"

Prowl's optics narrowed. He did not respond at first to Jazz's words, walking slowly toward the other cyberninja. His movement was just enough of a distraction to allow him to strike Jazz hard across the chest and helm. "I have no friends here," he responded calmly. "Least of all the one who let me die."

Jazz let out a startled grunt when he was hit, and he made no attempt to get up from where he fell. Prowl's words cut deep, and no matter how he tried to pretend he hadn't heard them, he couldn't shut them out of his processor. The one who had let him die. Who else would he be referring to? "Prowl, please..."

But his words fell on deaf audios. At the very least, he was spared the same fate, for just as Prowl was moving in for the final blow, Bumblebee skidded past, managing to knock the mech's legs out from beneath him with the sheer force of his own speed. "It's gotta be a clone! C'mon, you sorry fragger! I'll show you what you get when you mess with our friends!"

Fortunately for Bumblebee, his speed turned out to be his strong point. He was driving Prowl further and further out, and the ninja had a harder time hitting what he couldn't keep up with. The sluggish reactions fed the young mech's fire. This could not possibly be Prowl. Prowl would have no trouble at all striking him, no matter how fast he was moving!

Bulkhead had joined in at this point, swinging his wrecking ball at the ninja to force him to a different position every time Bumblebee took a shot with his stingers. Ratchet immediately rushed to Jazz's aid as Optimus, firing up his axe, moved to assist his team.

The further out they got, the more frustrated Prowl became, until finally he managed to sweep to one side, out of Bumblebee's range and, for a moment, out of his visual sensors. Before he could land a hit, however, a small streak of yellow and red shot in front of him.

"Leave him alone!" Sari shouted, armored mask coming up over her head as her hammer appeared in her hand. "Snap out of it, Prowl! It's us! You don't have to fight us! There was nothing we could do!"

No one could have predicted the way Prowl reacted. It only took him a split second, his hand tightening over one shuriken, and before Sari could move, he had struck out.

The whole area seemed to be overcome with a horrible, sickening quiet. There was a barely audible, dull thud when the weapon met its mark, doubling the red-haired girl at the waist before sending her sailing through the air, coming to a stop only when her back struck a wall with enough force to jar and bounce her forward from it.

Not a one of them moved as her mask snapped back without its controller's commands keeping it in place; nor did they budge when her small body dropped to the street below, landing on her side, unmoving.

Bumblebee's optics were wide and he was trembling visibly, staring at where the girl had fallen, not even noticing that Prowl had also ceased in his attacks for the moment, watching the same spot everyone was fixated on. He shook his head quietly, ignoring the ninja... and everyone else in the proximity. "No. No, no, no, no... SARI!"

Everyone stood, watching with baited breath, willing Sari to stand up or wave to them with a smile, insisting she was just fine.

She didn't.

_**To Be Continued...**_


	3. Though I Walk Through the Valley

_I don't know what to do._

_I'm angry. I'm frustrated. I'm hurt. I can't think straight... I can't see straight._

_I don't care if that's really Prowl in there. Not anymore. He hurt Sari!_

_What can I do but react?!_

_**Last Rites**_

_Part Three: Though I Walk Through the Valley_

The whole scene played out like a clip from some Hollywood drama. It did not, however, feel much like one. It did not move in seeming slow motion, or drag on only to feel as though it sped back to normal after the drop. In fact, everything seemed to be happening too quickly to follow. As Jazz shoved Ratchet in Sari's direction, despite the fact that the old medic was already heading that way, Bumblebee sprang into action.

There was no neatness. He was not calm or gentle, acting strictly on emotion and instinct. So spontaneous and explosive was his reaction that Prowl could not dodge the first swipe of his electrified stingers. He did not care anymore if this was a clone or a reanimated shell. He was devastated, furious, and shattered at his core.

Worse, he could not explain what was driving him. In the back of his processor, his memory relay replayed the horrible scene, over and over. He couldn't stop seeing Sari fall, unmoving, from such a devastating blow.

Another swipe of his stingers. This time, Prowl blocked and parried, throwing him off balance. "You sorry, slagging glitch!" he cried, ignoring how his vocalizer cracked with grief and despair. "First you impersonate Prowl! Then... then you hurt Sari!" He twisted to regain his balance, striking out again. "I'll send you back to Lockdown in pieces, you slagging, empty-shelled impostor!"

Prowl simply continued to dodge, expression blank. Bumblebee did not notice the flicker of the ninja's optics or how he had frozen when Sari was first struck, but to anyone paying close attention, something in the ninja's demeanor shifted at that point. Even if he seemed to be slowly returning to how he was before he had struck Sari. "She was in my way," he muttered, using a shuriken to block another strike. "I didn't... she shouldn't have gotten involved!"

As soon as the words were out of his vocalizer, he knocked Bumblebee back a final time, vaulting into the air and back in a sudden retreat. The small yellow bot immediately moved to follow, but was halted when Optimus grabbed his arm. "Optimus! Lemme go; he's getting away!"

"Bumblebee, stand down! It's no use chasing him now!" He kept his tone as stern and firm as his grip. "That's an order, Bumblebee! Sari's more important right now!"

The mention of the girl's name seemed to bring the young mech around. His optics paled as his expression fell and, with a despairing noise, he rushed toward where Ratchet was already working hard, head bent. From the muttered curses the medic was uttering, Optimus had a horrible feeling the prognosis was not good. He tried to ignore that feeling... not that it helped. Scrubbing one hand over his face, he walked over to where Jazz had fallen, quietly offering the free hand to help the cyberninja up. "Well?" he asked gently. "Was it a clone?"

Jazz's expression as the young Prime helped him stand was not one that set his spark at ease. "No." His tone was dark... tired. "Not a puppeted shell, either. No... when he was close, I felt his spark. Couldn't reach him... but he was there. Whatever he did, OP, it's dragged Prowl back to the land of moving parts. Thing is, they messed with his core programming."

Optimus frowned, his optics narrowed. "Great. So somewhere in there is Prowl... we just don't know where."

"He hesitated after Sari got hit," Jazz pointed out solemnly. "May not be much... but he is still there. If only barely."

Letting out a quiet sigh, Optimus turned to look over his team. Bumblebee and Bulkhead were hovering worriedly around Ratchet, who was working hard to keep Sari stable and breathing. "Let's hope word got to Cybertron. We need all the help we can get."

*****

Sentinel Prime was not a happy mech. Not only had an encrypted transmission from earth's team gotten intercepted, but no one had seen it fit to tell him! Nor was he told that Ultra Magnus had finally regained consciousness. He couldn't even remotely fathom why he was being left out of the loop like this.

So irritated was the acting Magnus that he hardly noticed when he finally stepped into the true Magnus's room. He did, however, notice a sudden flash of black, and in a split second, his shield was up. It was a good thing, too, for the shield blocked a solid kick from a petite, slender black-armored femme. A second later and he would've taken the hit right on the chin. "An assassin?!" Immediately, he drew his lance. "Not on my watch...!"

"Stand down, Sentinel Prime." Though weak, Ultra Magnus still spoke with a tone that commanded authority and demanded respect. "You as well, Spinout."

As the black femme took several immediate steps back to fall into a defensive position next to the Magnus, Sentinel blinked, startled. "Wait. You know her, sir?"

Ultra Magnus gave the other mech a withering glance. "For some time. Spinout is a student of the Crystallocution school of cyberninjitsu, and while a mercenary, I hired her to use her unique talents in our favor. She has been my optics and audios for some time now... keeping watch on things while I was unable to act on my own." His optics narrowed. "Now. What is this I've heard about Megatron being captured? According to what I've been told, you were not the one responsible...?"

Sentinel shifted, shooting the gold-opticked femme a dirty look. Whether or not Ultra Magnus had hired her, he didn't trust her. "That's correct, sir. Megatron, Shockwave, and Lugnut were captured on earth by Optimus Prime's crew. The Decepticon known as Starscream was reported as extinguished. His body was returned here for examination when his captured cohorts were brought in." He paused. "Optimus also lost one of his crew. The cyberninja named Prowl."

The Magnus listened to the story quietly, and he nodded faintly whenever Sentinel passed an important point. His contemplative expression turned to a frown, however, at news of the black and gold mech's passing. "That is unfortunate. But to my understanding, has there not been some development in that situation? According to a recent transmission, I understand his body was stolen?"

"It was," Sentinel responded, doing his best to push aside the rising irritation at the fact that somehow Ultra Magnus knew about this before he did. "By the bounty hunter Lockdown. Sir, if I may... how did you...?"

Ultra Magnus actually gave a faint smile. "Very shortly after I regained consciousness, I had word given to one of the communications officers – Blaster – to send through Spinout any communications from earth. I had learned about their success prior to this point... and I do like to stay on top of things." That was when his expression turned serious. "That, however, is not important right now. I need you to take Spinout and the jet twins to earth and investigate the situation. Find out what's happened and report back to me immediately with what you find." His optics narrowed. "While I'm hoping for a quick resolution... we may have to take special measures."

Sentinel blinked, arching a browridge. "Special measures, sir?"

The expression the Magnus wore was stern and decidedly unhappy. "We may need to activate the Wreckers."

At the mention of the splinter team, Sentinel's optics visibly widened. "The Wreckers?! But sir...! They're nothing but a bunch of unstable, violent, academy reject freaks! How could they possibly help us?!"

"That would depend largely on the situation," the Magnus replied calmly, his expression not betraying a single iota of what he was actually thinking. "I need to rest. Spinout, you are under Sentinel Prime's command for now." If he didn't notice the sour expression that overtook the slender femme's expression, Sentinel certainly did. "You're both dismissed."

The pair filed out as ordered, and for some time, they walked in relative silence. Spinout stayed several paces away from Sentinel at all times, and he was starting to get irritated. "So," he grumbled. "Mercenary, huh? Funny job for a cyberninja." When she didn't respond to his hook, he frowned. "Well, while you're under my command, I'll have you know that there'll be no funny business. You do exactly as I say and that's the end of it! You'll refer to me only as sir and you'll act like a soldier ought to! None of that creepy slinking around you cyberninja types get up to! And no back talk!"

"Of course, sir," Spinout replied casually, tone cool as she cast Sentinel a withering look. "Why would I do otherwise?"

*****

The air in the medical bay of the plant in Detroit was heavy. No one wanted to so much as flinch or cycle air for fear that the slightest wrong move would disturb Ratchet's delicate work. Professor Sumdac had arrived almost immediately after he'd gotten the news and had taken what was usually his daughter's perch on Bumblebee's shoulder to watch the proceedings, his expression and mannerisms visibly distressed. At the very least he understood how little he would be able to do... he was neither a mechanic nor a doctor.

"Fragging all," Ratchet was muttering. "Her repair systems are handling her damaged circuitry, if only barely... but her organic parts are damaged beyond my admittedly limited knowledge. If anyone has any ideas... I'm certainly open to suggestion."

Through the ensuing silence, it was Professor Sumdac who finally spoke up. "While this is a very unusual situation," he murmured, eyes never leaving his daughter's still frame, "I believe, perhaps, that Sari's old pediatrician may be our best option."

Ratchet gave a slow nod. "Well, if a pediatrician is a type of human medic, then yes. We need someone who knows human anatomy. Where can we find this "pediatrician?""

"Her name is Brenda Bradford. She has a clinic in the city. If someone could take me there, we could bring her back." It was easy to hear how hurt the professor was just by the tone of his voice. "It is not like we can take Sari to a hospital. Dr. Bradford will at least be discrete."

After a moment of contemplation, Ratchet made a sound of agreement. "You've got a point. Bumblebee... you're the quickest one here. Take the professor to the clinic. The faster, the better."

"But, Ratchet...!" Bumblebee protested. "I can't... I gotta..."

It was Optimus who reached out, pressing his hand to Bumblebee's other shoulder. "None of us are quick enough, Bumblebee. If Professor Sumdac is willing to leave his daughter's side for this, then you can find the strength to do the same."

The little yellow bot did his best to look brave at that, glancing at Professor Sumdac. "All right," he murmured, heaving a sigh. "Professor? Point me in the right direction and we're gone!"

*****

Inside Lockdown's ship, hidden in the relative safety of the dark side of the moon, the bounty hunter was perplexed, watching where Prowl lay in fitful recharge. The lithe ninja had seemed off upon his return. With the programming the Quintessons put in place to override his usual behavior and warp memories of his previous life, he shouldn't have been able to even act so moody.

He had seen, of course, the vicious swat the other mech had given that obnoxious little earth protoform. A good hit, and it wasn't like she hadn't deserved it. Maybe it'd even offlined her. Unfortunately, he had also seen how Prowl had frozen up in the split second after. It was almost as if he had felt guilty for what he had done. Was that even possible? Well, whether or not it was, he wasn't just going to sit by idle. Optics narrowed, he stalked toward the helm to open a direct line to Swindle.

The wish to immediately and violently wipe that stupid smile from Swindle's face when he appeared on the screen was almost overwhelming. It didn't vanish when he activated his vocalizer to speak, either. "Lockdown! Here I thought you would be enjoying your recent investment!" His voice was dripping with distaste and what Lockdown could only assume was a certain amount of pride in the bounty hunter's agitated expression. "I'm generally assuming, though, since you're calling me... that it's not all bonded bliss for you. Am I right?"

"Cut the slag, Swindle," Lockdown growled. "There's a problem. I think he's resisting the programming."

Swindle made a thoughtful noise, shrugging absently. "Well, they did say he could. I wouldn't worry too much about it, though. after all, they also said that the programming was solid... impossible to override. The resistance'll pass in time, I'm sure."

The bounty hunter frowned, grunting disagreeably. "I hate when someone's first reaction is "impossible." Usually means it ain't."

"Then if you're so concerned, why not just take him back to Quintessa?" Swindle's smile had vanished now. "I'm sure they can override the programming..."

Snorting in disdain, Lockdown dropped his head back against his seat rest. "Energon doesn't grow on asteroid crystals, Swindle. Unless you want to power my ship for the run."

Swindle just barked out a sharp laugh. "Afraid not, chum! So what'll you do?"

"I'll figure it out."

He cut off the transmission without another word, running a hand over his hook gingerly. Taking Prowl back would be the smart answer, but he'd spent a lot just to get him revived. Who knew how much the Quints would ask to fix the problem, despite it possibly being their fault? He probably would be able to handle the squid-like Quintessons themselves, but it was the enforcers and the brutish Sharkticons he wouldn't be able to handle alone. No... it would be a stupid idea to even try something like that.

Enveloped in his thoughts, he at first did not notice the soft steps of Prowl approaching from behind. He did take notice, however, when the ninja cleared the static from his vocalizer rather loudly. "I think... we need to talk."

*****

The clinic Sumdac led Bumblebee to stood on the less damaged part of town, and it was small despite the size of the city around it. A woman with thick, frizzy red hair was standing outside, flipping a sign on the door to read that the doctor was out, changing the hands on a little clock under it to show when she would return.

"That is her!" the professor exclaimed. "I will speak with her. Bumblebee, if you could let me out...?"

He did not have to ask twice. The door popped open and out the professor jumped, rushing over to the woman. "Dr. Bradford!"

At the sound of her name, the woman turned to see who was callign her, reaching up to adjust her glasses almost by instinct. "Who...?" When she did finally see who it was, her face lit up. "Oh! Isaac! No wonder I didn't realize...! I told you to call me Brenda!" Her cheery expression did not last long, however, when she saw the one Professor Sumdac wore. "Isaac...? What's wrong? Oh god. Is Sari okay?!"

Professor Sumdac just shook his head. "Sari is the reason I have come here today. Please, we do not have much time. I will explain on the way."

Though obviously surprised, the woman nodded, following when the man led her over to where Bumblebee was idling. She didn't waste time climbing into the passenger side. "Buckle your seatbelt, Dr. Bradford!" the little yellow bot insisted. "We'll be going sorta fast and I don't want you or the professor to get hurt."

The sound of the disembodied voice that suddenly drifted from the dash caused Dr. Bradford to give a startled cry. "Are... are we inside...?!"

"An Autobot, yeah," Bumblebee responded, taking the initiative instead to buckle both of them in himself. "Don't worry, though. You're safe with me!"

The woman swallowed, then leaned back a bit as Bumblebee began the fast trek back to the plant. Instead of focusing on how fast they were going or how many traffic laws she was sure they were probably breaking, she turned her attention back to Professor Sumdac. "Isaac... if we've got a few minutes, please. Tell me what's going on. This is kind of sudden. You took Sari to a new doctor because she needed special care, and it's not that I don't really like you and her, but it just seems kind of... odd that you'd come back after all this time."

"Has it really been that long?" Professor Sumdac did not look at the red-haired woman, trying to keep his attention focused straight ahead. "I do apologize for leaving like we did, Brenda. But things... happened. As normal as I am sure Sari always appeared – and sometimes too healthy for a normal seven year old girl, what happened would probably come as more of a shock than you realize."

Dr. Bradford furrowed her brow, adjusting her glasses warily as they darted around a corner haphazardly, causing her to grip the doorframe with her free hand. "I've seen a lot of weird conditions. Whatever was wrong that Sari that caused you to leave, I'm sure I could've handled it!" She paused, then sighed, pressing back into the seat. The reassurance that they were with an Autobot, safe inside the armoring of what appeared to be a normal car, didn't quiet that unpleasant rolling of her stomach. "You know you could've come to me anytime!"

The man blinked, glancing over. "I really do not think this would be something you would be able to readily – or willingly – handle. But right now, you are the only one we can trust. We cannot take Sari to a hospital but she needs the care of a human physician."

"I don't get it. If she needs the care of a physician, then why not take her to the hospital?" Dr. Bradford was growing steadily more puzzled, which wasn't helping this situation any. "Why come to me? I'm a pediatrician! This is kind of unprecedented and I can readily state that this is actually scaring me a little, Isaac. Just what exactly is going on here? Why won't you tell me?"

Professor Sumdac sighed, and probably would have sad at least something to try to alleviate the frightened woman's fears. That was, however, when Bumblebee swung around, all but running into one of the walls in his haste to get inside the plant and head toward the medbay. "I hate to interrupt, but we're almost there. Dr. Bradford... I really hope you'll believe me when I say this, but... good luck. You're gonna need it."

*****

In the medbay, some time before Bumblebee's arrival, Ratchet's mood was growing steadily more foul. He had a lot on his mind... more than he'd had in a long while. For now, at least, he was alone in the medbay. He had wanted Sari to have quiet while she rested. Now he feared his current mood might actually take that opportunity away from her.

He probably would've ended up pitching a tool at a nearby locked storage closer had Optimus not walked in, giving the medic a long, tired look. "Bumblebee's on his way back. They should be here shortly. How's Sari?"

"Same as before," the old medic stated, shaking his head. "No change. Don't think there will be, either. And I doubt that doctor friend of Professor Sumdac's will do much good. Her organic body is just too badly damaged." He sighed. "...though... I do have an alternative..."

The young Prime blinked, watching Ratchet's movements carefully. "If this alternative could save Sari's life, why haven't you brought it up yet?"

Ratchet immediately tensed. "Because it's risky! Beyond risky. It's unheard of. It's something no one's even done before, let alone attempted, and I don't even know if it'll work. And besides, I'm still not sure I want to do it. It's... I know I'm not making much sense so stop giving me that look. Trust me, Optimus, if this was something easy I would've done it already and we wouldn't be worrying or going through the trouble of dragging some poor femme who has no idea what the slag is going on here into the mix. But it's... tricky. Complicated."

That did not turn Optimus away. It actually caused him to frown, drawing up a chair to sit next to the old mech. "Anything is worth a shot at this point, Ratchet. We're exhausting our options, and the longer we wait, the weaker Sari gets. If you're right and her organic body is causing the rest of her body to fail... we've got to do something, and fast." He offered a weak smile. "So why don't you tell me what the big mystery is?"

The old mech just fell silent again, but before Optimus could insist again, Ratchet stood, motioning for the younger bot to follow him to the nearby locked storage closet. "You're not gonna like what y'see, kid," he murmured. "But... I want you to know what I'll be doing before I do it."

Optimus was naturally confused. Ratchet was secretive about his own past, but never about what he could or would do to save any one of his charges. So why all this hush and secrecy about whatever he had stashed away?

His tanks soured at that. Just what would Ratchet, a verbal decrier of military force and believer in doing whatever was necessary to get the job done, have to hide that was so awful, so horrible that he would be willing to try to keep it from even his closest friends, despite what the consequences may be.

Finally, he gave a sigh, steeling himself for whatever lay behind the doors Ratchet was pressing an unlock code into. "I'm ready, Ratchet. And don't worry. I'm sure whatever it is... I've probably seen worse."

Ratchet tensed as he shook his head, pulling his hand away from the keypad as the light on the top turned a sharp green.

"No. No, I very much doubt you have."

The doors slid back with an audible snap, and for a few minutes, Optimus had to fight to see what was inside. The light was limited and his optics hadn't quite adjusted enough to truly get a good, solid glimpse of what appeared to be some sort of long, dark tube.

He blinked.

No. No, that wasn't a tube at all, was it? Something caught in his spark and he nearly let his processor run away on him. Instinct told him to turn on the medic... to holler and rail at him for this completely unforeseen "solution" to their existing problem. But he was a smart and rational mech under most conditions, and he did his best to school his expression, despite the fury and disappointment he just couldn't shake out of his systems.

He could already see Ratchet's chagrined expression and the way the medic looked anywhere but at him. This was why the old medic had been so terrified of letting him see... so uncertain of how his young commander would react.

"Ratchet," Optimus managed to whisper, surprised at how loud even that sounded in the all too quiet room, "what in the name of the Allspark have you done?"

_**To Be Continued...**_


	4. Amaranthine

_They say that at times, you can't even trust your own family. That someday, eventually, something will happen that will completely warp your beliefs... your acceptance of them. I guess for me, that day was a long time coming._

_One would think I'd have learned not to trust so easily after experiences in my past left me where I am today. But I was given a good crew, and I put a great deal of stock in them._

_I guess I just never thought something like this would happen..._

_**Last Rites**_

_Part Four: Amaranthine_

Bit by bit, information was coming in. None of it was making Blaster happy, and he was tapping his fingers somewhat impatiently on a keypad as he waited for the next bit of data to filter through. Since the revelation that Longarm Prime was really Shockwave in disguise, he had pretty much taken over communications. Problem was, that was a lot of ground to cover. Right now, he was trying to focus his attention on allegations that there were Decepticon forces closing in on Cybertron. With this going on, he couldn't go out into the field as he used to enjoy.

But he did have the other communication techs, and a scout or two at his command. A scout was actually what he needed right now. There were strange readings coming from one of the disposal heaps set to be burned, and he wanted to find out what it was before the whole mess was incinerated.

The answer to that came in the form of a small, black and green mech who had only recently graduated from the academy. A newly christened scout, but mostly just a courier these days, the little black and green mech known as Striker was something of Blaster's assistant. Which came in handy when the host could not leave his station to investigate anything strange. Right now, the lithe sprinter was waiting impatiently for his orders, watching Blaster's every move, bright green optics sparkling with the anticipation only a runner could know.

"Well, mech... this is your chance. We just got a communication that the junkers down near the incinerators don't wanna touch this one pile. You're a scout... so I want ya t'go down there, find out what it is, and report back t'me." He reached over, pressing a scanner unit into the smaller mech's hands. "This one's all you, my mech. Have at."

Striker flashed a bright grin. "I'm on it, sir!"

With those words, he was out the door, heading down to the disposal heaps. It felt good to have a good run on. Striker was nothing like his predecessor Blurr, who had gone missing several lunar cycles ago. He could not maintain a constant speed or continue moving at high speeds over long distances. He was a dasher... not a distance runner.

Which, of course, made this particular task perfect for him. He managed to make a neat entry to the incinerator room, holding the scanner device Blaster had all but shoved into his hands. The workers there were all steadfastly avoiding one pile in particular, and the young mech took this as his cue to get a somewhat closer look of the situation.

Odd, he thought. the scanner was indicating lifesign. But from a pile of trash? Frowning, he moved forward. One pile was reacting more strongly than any, and the worst was an oddly heavy blue cube. He furrowed his brow, turning it in his hands until he saw it. Through a distinct crack on one side... a spark pulsing weakly within.

Green optics widened and all at once, he dashed out. "Blaster!" he cried into his comm. "I found the source of the weird readings!"

"Great!" the host replied. "Get it cleared up?"

Striker winced. "Well, uh... sorta?"

He heard the mech make a puzzled sound. "Whataya mean... sorta?"

"I found this weird, heavy cube. It..." Striker paused. "It has a spark inside, sir!"

Blaster made a sound that was audibly startled. "A sp... well, don't waste time, mech! Get that cube to a medic! Pronto!"

*****

Ah... the gulag. To be honest, while Shockwave did not relish being locked away, this particular slam was preferable to many others. For instance, though he was considered a "high security" inmate, he was near enough to his fellow Decepticons to communicate. And, being intelligent, he was able to start forming a suitable plan of escape.

Through considerable manipulation, and a reasonable facsimile of exemplary behavior, he had gained more and more freedom to move with less and less supervision throughout the facility. Using these small luxuries, he had discovered the whereabouts of some of his compatriots: Blitzwing, Lugnut, and a clone of Starscream who had taken to calling himself Ramjet. Useful knowledge, of course, for their forthcoming escape... but try as he may, he could not discern the location of their great leader, Megatron. He was positive he was somewhere inside this place, and he assumed he was probably being kept in the deep down. It was a place they reserved for only the most dangerous of criminals, after all... solitary confinement for those considered so hazardous to handle that they even hid them from the world outside.

Finding others sympathetic to their cause, however, was a simple enough task. He discovered there were many. The massive leader of a combiner team... he went by Motormaster. His team was there as well. He was harboring a grudge against a splinter group of Autobots that called themselves the Wreckers, and that hatred was more than easy to manipulate.

Also Sixshot, a menacing behemoth of a former Autobot. This one, he recalled, had been involved in the ill-fated multi-changer project. It had benefited the Decepticons with the technology that had given them Blitzwing and Astrotrain (wherever that childish fool had gotten to), at the mere expense of several young Autobots. No waste at all. And this massive, lethal defector was none the wiser to who had truly sabotaged the project that was to have made he and his comrades integral to the war effort. No matter. He could be well used.

Those findings, however, were neither here nor there. The most pressing matter right now was to first escape from the gulag, and then to find and free Megatron.

He had been very careful up to this point. His manipulation of the guards was meticulous and precise. If played properly, he could have them supping from his clawed servos right before he cut their still pulsing sparks from the casing. Today, he was confident, would be the day.

Permission tot eh library was hard-earned. Normally, datapads were simply brought to the prisoners and were meticulously checked for any tampering. But guards could be sweet-talked, and an intelligent, meticulous inmate could gain access to this room with naught but a few lazy guards to observe them... and more often than not, those few guards could be quite easily distracted.

It was shame, really. The Autobots should have been much more careful with such a dangerous criminal. Of course, they could hardly be blamed. Guards in such deep, remote prisons were poorly paid, mostly because such places were the sorts no one wanted to be. There were even a few guards here who perhaps should have been in the hole themselves. Either way, none of them were paid nearly enough to trouble themselves with the prisoners they were nigh over-burdened with. The group mostly governed themselves, and the hierarchy had been most simple to climb. Under different circumstances, they would have perhaps thought to sedate him... place him in such a drugged stupor that his fearsome intellect would not have been able to function.

Without these simple precautions, Shockwave had been free to do as he pleased, and now that he had access to the library, his cunning had been put to good use. With time as the lunar cycles passed, he was able to bring his weapon systems slowly back online. As he knew how to shut off these systems at will, keeping them silent beneath other overlying processes, he continued to pass safety scans with flying colors. None of the guards were ever the wiser. their more lax behavior toward his quiet, demure behavior was simply one more bolt in the proverbial coffin.

It was time to strike.

It was already relatively late in the solar cycle. He was in the library, listening to the guards talk outside. One had just mated a pleasant femme from a countryside energon farm that he had been wooing for some time. Another was proudly boasting of the protoform he and his partner had just received for the spark budding from his mate's. Still another, one of the old-timers, just chuckled occasionally, commenting on his own large family.

It was a pity none of them would live to see any of their families again.

He struck hard and fast. The three guards in the hall were offlined before they could sound the alarm. this was the easy part. He still had to free his comrades and find Megatron, and that was where his task became difficult.

His first order of business was to get some firepower behind him. Sixshot was his logical first choice, and the bonds keeping him from shifting rapidly among his six modes were broken relatively simply now that he had restored his own weapons and strength. With Sixshot on freeing Motormaster and his team, who while in the form of Menasor, had begun ripping through the assembled guards. That left Shockwave with only one logical course of action: freeing Megatron.

Walking over to the access lift, he sighed, settling as he headed into the Deep Down. The screams and groans of prisoners down here, left to rot with no fuel or company, driven to insanity by no light and no language to comfort them... these things were enough to drive anyone to madness. But he was steadfast, ignoring them as he headed for the cell he needed.

917-84-MP5.

His approach was stopped rather abruptly by a guard standing by the door, though the guard neither fired nor truly advanced. He simply moved forward in such a way that he could block any further movement from Megatron's most loyal lieutenant.

This guard was particularly massive, and Shockwave was actually impressed; from the look of him, this was no ordinary prison lackey. He easily stood the same height as the Decepticon lieutenant, though he was broader than the lithe warrior. His size alone led him to believe that he was not always a "loyal" Autobot servant.

He considered his position. The other mech was, certainly, visibly stronger than him... and possibly more agile. Size, he knew, had no bearing on how quickly a mech could move. He would have to step carefully or his opportunity here would be completely dashed. "You aren't like the other guards. You haven't even tried to attack me. Tell me... what drives you, Autobot? Why is it you and your ilk fight to stop us?"

"Does it look like I'm fighting to you?" the large mech growled. "And I'm no Autobot. You're here for him?"

When the mech – a neutral, Shockwave now assumed – jabbed a clawed thumb back toward the cell, Shockwave gave a faint nod. "Yes. And most of the other guards, as I'm sure you've already noticed, are offlined."

The big mech arched a browridge. He was striking Shockwave as strangely familiar and he simply could not peg why. "And I'm sure you've noticed that others, much like me, aided instead of attempting to hinder you...?"

"I did, in fact," the Decepticon conceded. "Tell me... with glory among the Autobots well within your grasp, why assist us?" Realization was dawning. He knew this mech... this face. "Why risk execution or worse?"

All at once, the neutral began to laugh, his head thrown back. That horrible, grinding sound was all the proof he needed. This truly was the mech he suspected. "We may have been foolish at first, but we have waited for our exalted leader to return to us! The time is now, and we arise from this filthy pit to bow at his servos and pledge our claws and fangs to his will once more!" He turned swiftly, and claws that rivaled Shockwave's own ripped through the thick metal of the lock, the electricity coursing through not even phasing him. "His hunters return to him, as we have always sworn to do. The Sweeps are his alone to command!"

The considerable power this mech, now recognized as Scourge, leader of the infamous Sweeps, was a testament to Decepticon technological prowess. He had never been privileged with the opportunity to watch the Sweeps work, but Decepticon history spoke quite highly of Megatron's honor guard and their sheer brutality on the field.

Despite any earlier misgivings, he knew they would serve Megatron well. "You are among those who were granted amnesty in exchange for giving in to the surrender with no struggle, am I correct?"

Scourge gave a sour grunt. "Unfortunate, but ultimately necessary. Our decision allowed us to remain free and unhindered until a time that Megatron could rise up and strike down the Autobot infestation once and for all, crushing their sparks with his bare servos as their protoforms watch." His ruby optics glittered with some sick, twisted glee. "We have cultivated the gulag. Yes... it, and all of Chaar, will create a most suitable staging ground for his greatness as we reclaim our sparkedright."

Shockwave almost wished he could smile. This mech's fervor for destruction and calumny was sparkwarming. The pleasant thoughts of violently crushing the Autobots, however, were chased from his processor rather suddenly when he saw Megatron himself.

The great commander was heavily restrained, and if the tubes and wires attached to the ports on his arm were any indication, he was under heavy medical sedation. "My lord Megatron," he uttered, crestfallen. "Once we have freed you... your vengeance will be swift and merciless!"

As that thought made rounds in his processor, he moved forward. Their lord would rise again... and they would have their revenge!

*****

It was not easy to ignore the fact that there was a mercenary on his ship. Sentinel Prime was having a time of it as it was, and he wasn't pleased with the Magnus's orders to take the sleek black femme along. She wasn't enjoying the mission either, and that much made him even more frustrated. What an obnoxious way to spend a mission.

He was milling over the myriad ways he could get out of this and leave the femme he most certainly did not trust on some hostile alien planet somewhere when she actually spoke up, the distaste in her tone enough to make him want to make some attempt at punching her. "Sir," she began, "we are receiving a distress signal from the prison planet of Charr. There has been a massive security breech. A few surviving guards have escaped the planet... it seems the prisoners have taken over the complex."

"What?!" Sentinel demanded, immediately striding down to where the mercenary was manning the console. "That's impossible! Check and recheck. That facility is maximum security. No prisoner's ever managed a break, let alone a full-scale take-over!"

Spinout gave him a dry look, gold optics dim but focused. "Well, then, Sir, perhaps you should not have allowed them to keep such a dangerous criminal as Shockwave in the same facility as his cohorts..."

The acting Magnus cut her off with a growl. "Don't second-guess me, mercenary. His weapons were shut off and completely disabled. He was useless!"

"And as I recall, this same "useless" mech was smart enough to infiltrate the highest levels of Autobot security and intelligence, nearly crippling us from within... without ever firing a single shot." Spinout was glaring now, openly showing her dislike. Most of what she knew she received from Ultra Magnus, who had been less than pleased with Sentinel's treatment of the situation after he had been incapacitated. "With all due respect... perhaps he is not so useless as you would liked to have believe."

Though Sentinel was growing more and more agitated by the moment, he wasn't going to let her know that. Nor was he going to concede that she was correct. "Fine, then. If you think this is getting out of hand, then what do you suggest we do?"

The femme turned back to her console. "If you honestly care about my opinion, then I believe you should contact Ultra Magnus. He is well enough to provide insight without malice toward the position you have found yourself in."

"He needs rest. Not to be bothered by me," Sentinel retorted. He leaned back a bit, and then frowned. "...but he does need to know about this. Pull up the communication feed to Ultra Magnus." As he walked back to his chair, he listened. The femme did not acknowledge, but she did as she was told, and as he sat, the face of the recovering Magnus appeared on the screen. "Ultra Magnus, sir."

The commander was looking better, and he regarded both the mercenary and the acting Magnus with a solemn nod. "Status report, Sentinel Prime."

The blue mech sucked in a cooling cycle of air. "Prison break on the planet of Chaar, sir. A few guards have managed to escape, but they report the facility as being overrun. According to the reports... the break was organized by the Decepticon captive, Shockwave."

Ultra Magnus's expression turned grim in a matter of seconds. "Ill news indeed," he sighed. "We'll need to activate a crew to investigate, and attempt to stop this uprising before more innocent mechs are harmed."

"Excellent idea!" Sentinel acknowledged. "But... ah... there aren't that many crews that could, though I suppose we could sidetrack--"

He was cut off when Ultra Magnus gave his head a shake. "No. You and Spinout will stay your course for the Autobot base on Earth to uncover whatever it is that has been happening there. I do, however, expect you to contact the Wreckers as you are closest to their last position and it will be much easier for you to get word through to them."

It was all Sentinel could do to not to sneer. He didn't like the Wreckers, and was not afraid to let that show in his mannerisms and expressions. He downright hated them, as a matter of fact. But he wasn't going to say that to Ultra Magnus... not if it could mean wrecking any chance he had of looking to becoming the _true_ Magnus at any point in time. "Of course, sir. Whatever you say."

"Very good. I will leave you to your mission, then," Ultra Magnus stated with a firm nod. "Ultra Magnus out."

As soon as the screen went blank, Spinout's bright yellow optics slid over to Sentinel, whose whole frame was tense with irritation. She arched a browridge, making sure to keep a weather optic on his body language. "Shall I open a line to the Wreckers, sir?"

His optic twitched visibly. "We had better," he sighed. "The Magnus ordered it."

*****

Recovery had been blessedly quick. All of the Wreckers had taken damage in that last fight against Menasor and Sixshot, but none so badly as Springer himself. He had protected his team, though... and that had been the important thing.

He was actually in a relatively good mood, too. Rodimus's team had managed to blend in fairly well since their arrival, they'd all been relatively left alone by the bureaucrats up Ultra Magnus's tailpipe back in Iacon, and... and...

And that was when the vidscreen beeped, requesting acknowledgment for a message from Sentinel Prime. He groaned. Here he'd been hoping for a relatively pleasant day. So much for that. A sigh slipped from him as he opened the link. "Sentinel Prime," he greeted sourly. "to what do I owe the immense displeasure of having to look at your ugly mug?"

Sentinel scowled sharply at the multi-changer. "You are speaking to the acting Magnus, freak. So show some respect!"

That caused Springer to scoff, optics narrowing to slits. "In case you hadn't noticed, I gave him the same "respect," and even that much is far more than you deserve at all. Besides that, you're really not doing a great job of convincing me to listen to a damn thing you say. So..."

Tensing visibly, Sentinel's scowl intensified while Springer's expression remained unchanged. He couldn't blow this... not now. "Orders from on high. You and your team have been activated to cap a prison break on Chaar."

"Assuming I actually cared," Springer began, though he had to admit the Prime had his attention, "why us?"

Sentinel snorted. "Because for some reason, Ultra Magnus thinks you and your merry band of losers are best suited to this operation. You were the ones who managed to put away Sixshot and the Stunticons, after all."

Instantly, Springer 's optics went wide. "Wait. You sent them to Chaar?!"

Slowly, Sentinel nodded. "Of course. It's also where we sent a couple of the prisoners from the Earth team--..."

"And who authorized this?!" Springer demanded, not caring that he had interrupted the Prime. "Was it you?!" When Sentinel gave a dumbfounded nod, the multi-changer exploded out of his seat. "And you thought this was a good idea?! You're a fragging idiot!" Cutting off the transmission, he opened a comm to his entire team, striding toward the room's exit. "Up and at 'em, team. We've got clean-up to do."

*****

In all honestly, Optimus was not sure what he should say to Ratchet. He wished there was something – anything – that could break the awful silence that had fallen. But this, here in the storage closet, had stolen away his words. "A protoform," he heard Ratchet say. "Sari knew she would need it. She just didn't know why."

"This is why you only reported two protoforms found." Optimus sounded more harsh than he had initially intended, though he just couldn't seem to help it. "Ratchet, this... you could be tried for treason for this!"

The medic's expression ahrdened. "You think I care about that right now?! Sari could die! And if the only way to save her life is me being locked up for the rest of mine?! Well, it's a chance I'm willing to take. I'm not going to lose another protoform in my care. I can't let her down. I failed them... I won't fail her!"

Optimus frowned. He was uncertain who this mysterious "them" referred to, but something in their lives had obviously left a deep, lasting imprint on Ratchet's. He was curious, but opted not to pry. "I do understand your good intentions, Ratchet; I really do. It's just that--..."

He trailed off as, finally, Bumblebee sped into the room, interrupting any further conversation as he all but slid to a halt near the larger mechs. Ratchet, for now, slammed shut the door hiding the protoform. It was only there if they absolutely needed it. As it was, Bumblebee had swung his doors open, allowing the humans inside access to exit.

"This is a... pediatrician?" Ratchet inquired, slowly kneeling to give Dr. Bradford a long look. "Can she really help?"

The two humans exchanged a look, and Brenda drew in a deep, nervous breath, twisting one finger in a strand of wiry red hair. Professor Sumdac gave her an encouraging glance. "I truly hope she can," he said, fidgeting nervously as Ratchet offered a hand for the woman to climb up on. "We have so few options left."

Understandably, Brenda was quite leery of the assist, though she did oblige to allow Ratchet to move her, keeping a firm grip on one of the fingers gently wrapped around her.

It was after she was placed down next to the injured girl that the visible shock set in. "Okay..." she murmured. "Can someone please tell me when the eight year old I treated a year ago suddenly became sixteen?!"

"It's a long story, doctor," Optimus replied softly. "I wish we had the time to explain it now, but we just don't have the time. What we need to know is whether or not you can help her. We're counting on you."

Dr. Bradford furrowed her brow in response to that, shaking her head. "Honestly, it looks like she needs a surgeon." Kneeling, she quietly felt for a pulse. "What happened to her?"

Bumblebee shifted uncomfortably. "It's... kind of hard to explain..."

Though growing exasperated, Brenda nodded. Something in the young mech's expression and tone told her there was much more to his obvious concern than met the eye. "Well, I'll see what I can do," she murmured. "Though... I have a feeling this may well be beyond me."

Any further conversation was halted rather suddenly when a system alarm attached to the girl's arm began to sound. Ratchet immediately drew tense, and everyone else seemed to freeze. The doctors present knew what that meant... the techno-organic girl's vitals were beginning to drop. A thrill of panic ran through the room, and Ratchet finally turned his attention to the pediatrician, expression as worried as the girl's now near frantic father. "Well, doctor, here's your chance to try. Because our only other option may be too extreme for anyone to risk..."

_**To Be Continued...**_


	5. Into the Black

_I can't think. I can't focus._

_My mind is here, and yet not. It's like... being in a terrible, thick fog. One that chokes all senses and clouds all sense of awareness. I am me, and yet I am not. I do not yet know what has happened... but I intend to find out._

_**Last Rites**_

_Part Five: Into the Black_

"I want to know what you've done to me!"

The demand was simple. It was straight-forward, coherent, and plain. It was also well beyond any capacity Lockdown had paid the Quintessons to program into his puppet... and now it was painfully obvious his suspicions on how solid those blocks were had been proven correct. "Funny way to thank the mech who brought you back."

Prowl's expression tightened, but he did not move. "How? Why?! I was at peace!" That terrible ache in his spark was growing with every passing moment. "How dare you break the sanctity of the Allspark?!"

Fury and that awful pain slowed him, dulling his senses. Which was exactly why Lockdown's sudden movement caught him off-guard. He grunted as he was pinned firmly against he wall, Lockdown's impressive bulk rendering the smaller, more agile mech mostly immobile. "You wound me, Prowl," he murmured into the other mech's audio, tone dangerous. "I did it for you. Good reason, I think... more than those teammates of yours were willing to do."

Something in Prowl's mind snapped, and all at once, he coiled, jaw clenching tightly as all of his strength welled up into something horrible and brutal. Memories of horrible acts, of things he should never have done, burned into his processor.

"Because unlike you," Prowl hissed, "I have respect for the sanctity of life!" He twisted, managing to jam his fist into Lockdown's abdomen as hard as he could. "A lesson that I intend to teach you... no matter how long it takes."

*****

None of the Wreckers were really at any sort of ease. When springer showed the tell-tale signs of potential rage, they all steered clear and not a one of them denied his orders. As they moved, a solid unit, it was Quickswitch who finally spoke up. "So, big green. What's the rush?"

When Springer didn't reply, Rodimus did with what little information his large green companion had slipped to him. "According to Springer, Sentinel – in all his infinite wisdom – put some of the Decepticons' worst offenders, the ones we caught included, in the gulag on Chaar."

From the back, the Wreckers' veteran medic – a brusque, no-nonsense femme named Peacekeeper – gave a huff. "Wonderful. That's just... ugh. That's great. Because everyone knows just how smart it is to put some of the most dangerous criminals on Cybertron in one spot where their chances of escape are all of a sudden several times more likely!" She grumbled irritably. "That one is a real piece of work... not a good one, either."

"Still think you should've let us at 'im when he came here to bring Rodimus and his team for repairs," suggested a red mech flanking her.

"We coulda shut up him real quick," added the yellow mech beside him, a near perfect physical match to the prior short of helm design.

Peacekeeper gave the twins a stern glare, causing both of them to put on angelic smiles. "In any case... that right there has to be among Sentinel's more idiotic decisions."

"No kiddin'," Inferno snorted, standing tall and stretching with a scowl. "He ain't big on processin' power, an' that's sumthin comin' from a "dumb hick" like me."

The distaste with which he uttered the derrogatory nickname Sentinel had given him was painfully obvious, speaking volumes of the general opinion he and the other Wreckers had of the "acting Magnus." All of them were here due to something someone or another in the Elite Guard had done, it was true... but it was Sentinel who held the highest amount of disrespect among them.

But Springer was not listening. He was visibly tense, his whole frame radiating frustration and anger. Rolling his shoulders, he cast a glance back at his team, optics glowing an eerily dark blue. "We've been activated to deal with the mess and we're going to make this quick. No mention of any really big names, so this shouldn't be too tricky for us. What Sentinel neglected was that the gulag is guarded by the Sweeps... former Decepticons. Their loyalty has always been questionable, and worse... they were once Megatron's honor guard.

Murmurs rose among the Wrecker ranks. Rodimus, sliding easily into his assistant commander role, immediately stepped up when Springer did not continue. "My team will handle search and rescue. Any guards who've escaped will be in our care. Hot Shot, Brawn, Red Alert, and Inferno will be with me. The multis, Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, and Peacekeeper are with Springer. Kup will be performing relay from the shuttle."

As the rest of the team nodded, they all began to filter to the shuttles. It was time to act... and act fast.

*****

The closer the shuttle got to Earth, the more Sentinel scowled. He did not want to be here. It was a waste of resources! And with a crew of only three, one of which was not even a soldier, it felt like he was being placed on the back-burner hard. The twins he could tolerate, of course, even if they had a tendency to be belligerent and disrespectful at best. It was that no-account mercenary. She was the one who absolutely rattled his plating.

He was still deep in frustration when the proximity alarms began to sound, drawing him out of his thoughts and back to the situation at present. The twins were looking to him plaintively.

"Sentinel Prime, sir," Jetstorm began.

Jetfire continued. "We are picking up signal. A ship with the cloaking."

Jetstorm nodded when Jetfire looked to him. "It is being behind the moon of Earth."

Sentinel's optics narrowed. "A cloaked ship behind the moon? That's odd... and more than a little bit suspicious. Jetfire! What's the energy signature?"

The orange and white mech furrowed his browridge. "Decepticon, sir."

Well. Maybe this trip wouldn't be a total loss, after all! Leaning forward, he grinned wickedly. "Boys... move to intercept!"

Jetstorm furrowed his own browridge at that order. "But... Sentinel Prime, sir... is Ultra Magnus sir not saying we are to going to earth?"

"Yes!" Jetfire chimed in. "He is telling us to being very prompt!"

The commander's expression tightened. "Who is in charge of thi smission, protoform?"

"You are being in charge, Sentinel Prime, sir!" the two boys chimed in unison.

Sentinel nodded sharply. "Slagging right I'm in command. Now follow that energy signature!"

both of the boys made nervous sounds, but neither would argue his logic. And besides... he was acting Magnus. He wouldn't be acting Magnus if he hadn't known what he was doing, right?

The twins gave one another a long look, then nodded, setting a course for the dark side of the moon.

*****

Prowl was livid. He couldn't recall a time previous he had ever been this furious. Somewhere in the back of his processor, amid the foggy memories and glossed over morals, he knew he should stop. Knew that each punch he threw now, every kick and powerful blow, was one more too many. The punishment outweighed the crime. It was over. He had done enough.

And yet, every flash of a horrible memory that rippled through his mind seemed to force his movements. Hurting Sari. How he spoke to Jazz. Everything the demented degenerate had done to him while he was witless and powerless to fight back. Lockdown was still moving... blocking as well as he could against the ruthless onslaught. His jaw was cracked, functionality lost. On the same side, that optic was completely shattered out. An arm, the one with the chainsaw mod, had been ripped clean from its socket and was laying limp several feet away.

He was beaten. Defeated. There was no reason to keep going, but he couldn't stop. The world was a blur of red and mech fluid and focus was just... gone.

As bad as it could've gotten, they did not continue to slid, as suddenly he heard shouting all around him. Startled voices followed by a lithe figure stepping in to block his blows. He could not fathom why anyone would defend Lockdown at all, but that voice...

"It is done!" the feminine voice was saying, snaking into his fuzzy processor. "The battle is done, brother! He has lost! Stop this madness!"

His blows started to slow. He was panting, his whole frame trembling faintly as his vision cleared and focused on the gold-opticked femme in front of him. Recognition sank in; this femme had been one of Master Yoketron's students. He recalled seeing her at the dojo several times. "Spinout...?"

Before she could respond, she was flanked by Jetstorm and Jetfire, both of them shocked by Prowl's appearance... and even more-so by his brutal mauling of Lockdown.

"Prowl! You are being alive!" Jetstorm cried.

"But... you were being dead!" Jetfire chimed in.

"How?! We are seeing the body!"

"We are knowing how you are dying!"

"We were at the service! I am remembering this!"

"Yes! It is not making the sense!"

Prowl just stood bewildered. Spinout had turned to tend to Lockdown as Sentinel cuffed him, mostly to give the boys a chance to get all their questions out of their systems, but both she and Prowl were well aware of the looks the commander was giving the cyberninja. "This was brutally unnecessary, soldier!"

"I am... not a soldier," Prowl responded quietly. "I simply... I... I reacted to what he had done... my mind... I couldn't think..."

"That's no excuse!" Prowl visibly winced at his tone, exhausted from his exertions. "Jetstorm, Jetfire! Stasis cuffs! We're taking him in too!"

Spinout was immediately on her feet, moving between Sentinel and Prowl in a move that caused the Prime to scowl at her, expression nasty. "Now hold on! He was confused! Imagine what he has gone through, Sentinel, and tell me you would not do the same!"

Instantly Sentinel was in her face, and though she showed no fear, he continued to force his attempted intimidation. "I'm in command here! Don't question my orders again, mercenary, or you'll find yourself in lock-up too! Boys! Now!"

Both Jetstorm and Jetfire squirmed a bit, but moved to do as they were instructed. Spinout, now shoved roughly aside by Sentinel, was scowling. Prowl, however, did not put up any resistance. All he could think was that nothing made sense and he hoped that soon, the pieces would blissfully fall into place. Maybe this was some nightmare given to him by the Allspark to test his resolve. Maybe... maybe he could finally rest.

*****

Awareness was returning slowly. His processor felt thick... addled. As if he had been suspended and was just now struggling out of the odd, viscous mass that had held him for a time frame he could not yet surmise.

Ruby optics powered on, burning bright in the heavy darkness of the Deep Down, a heavy cycle of cooling air rushing through repowered systems as he finally truly awoke to the slavering servant before him.

"My lord," he heard Shockwave saying. "Welcome back. Your presence has been greatly missed."

"Where are we, Shockwave?" the tyrant rumbled. "This is not Earth... or Cybertron."

The one-opticked strategist nodded slowly. "We are on the prison planet of Chaar. It is under our control now, my lord." He bowed a bit. "The Sweeps have returned to the fold. Their strength and numbers are again yours to command."

Slowly, Megatron nodded, taking his time as he sat up so that his equilibrium would not be unbalanced by sudden movements. "Then Scourge followed my instructions to the letter. Excellent. And the Autobots here?"

"Off-lined, my lord," Shockwave responded. "Only a few meager stragglers escaped, and Scourge has sent the huntsmechs to crush them."

He took a few steps back, giving Megatron room to stand. The powerful mech had only just gotten his footing when Blitzwing strode in. The pale blue face, one optic hidden by a targeting monocle, was up, and from his posture he seemed at least somewhat in control. "Lord Megatron. We have gained access to ze monitor rooms and have detected a ship of unknown origin entering Chaar airspace." He lifted his chin, just slightly. "It iz not ze Autobots... though it does carry zeir insignia. Ze sixchanger Sixshot says it iz a splinter cell... zey are called ze Wreckers. How shall we respond?"

"As we do every threat to our reign," Megatron replied, tone calm and cold. "Brutally and without mercy. Give out my order. Crush them."

*****

Back on Cybertron, a young medic by the name of First Aid had his hands full. repairing damage was one thing... but a whole new body? The poor speedster was lucky to be functioning at all, even if he was deeply in medical stasis to prevent his sorely underpowered spark from going offline completely. The Decepticons had truly done a number on him... and he supposed it really was the least he could do to make certain he at least could move again.

Nearby, Striker was watching from his perch on one of the chairs. It amazed the medic to even think the sprinter could stay still for so long, but he was showing a deep concern for the poor intel mech whose apparent fate had been to become nothing more than a cube-shaped paperweight for some stylus-pusher's desk. The fact that the incinerator had been off, and that his lifeless lump of a frame had bounced free of it anyway, was a small mercy they all could be grateful for.

"Blurr, is it?" he found himself saying. "I believe that's what the initial scan gave your callsign as. Pity you're in such a state. Part of me is interested in knowing what did this to you, but to be perfectly honest, I'm much more concerned with making sure you /will/ speak again. I have your schematics, thankfully... it's a good thing we managed to get ahold of this protoform, but it's still weak from all it's been through. The Trion is busy in the Chamber of Sparks, checking to see if any new ones have formed, but for now, we'll have to make do with an old protoform and some fresh repairs. I think you'll appreciate that for now, hm?"

Silence fell over the room as First Aid continued to work, hooking energon linkups to the lifeless arms as he prepared for the transfer.

Maybe this wasn't the best way to go about things... maybe they wouldn't succeed. But he had to at least try.

Even if he didn't know either mech here in this quiet, sterile room... he owed them that much.

*****

They had been waiting.

The attack, which had originally been intended to cap the uprising on Chaar, had turned into a near massacre only cycles after starting. Springer's team had retreated to the ship after a long tangle with the Sweeps and Sixshot, ending in Sideswipe missing an arm and Sunstreaker with a hole punched cleanly through his abdomen. Springer had also not faired very well. One of his legs was broken in several places and it was all he could do to get his team back to the shuttle before things got worse. Peacekeeper, whose armor was badly dinged and singed, was working on reattaching the red twin's lost arm as the young mech worriedly tried to console his twin, who could barely cycle cooling air due to his injury.

Rodimus's team had not fared much better. Red Alert had quietly joined Peacekeeper in working on repairs, though the worry was evident in her face. Inferno had been carried in by Quickswitch, with Sandstorm flanking him missing most of the armoring from his helm. Hot Shot and Brawn were sticking close, though neither of the smaller mechs seemed to have taken much damage.

The huntsmechs had, they reported, annihilated what remained of the escaped guards. There was no one left to rescue, and if they did not retreat soon, they too would join the ranks of the offlined.

It infuriated Springer to be so utterly helpless. He watched the medics work, toiling quietly away at the injured who were sitting around in the shuttle. He sat back a ways so that he would not interfere or be bothered until repairs to his frame were necessary, but that possibility was dashed when he heard the creak of old joints before a hand came to rest on his arm. "There was nothing you could have done, lad," the old mech was saying. "We gave it our best. That's what's important."

"We could've done more, Kup," Springer countered. "We could've saved more lives. Helped more people."

Kup just gave an irate huff, sinking his ancient frame down next to his created. "We didn't know Megatron was there. Sentinel didn't give us that little bit of pretty vital info. Without it... we had no idea what we were walking into. We just gotta report what happened and move on."

That made Springer's jaw tighten as he leaned back, optics narrowed to slits. "And what will that do? Our medical facilities here aren't suited to handling the injuries we've taken with all this, and even considering what we just did, Sentinel's not gonna just let us back into Cybertron proper for some energon goodies and oil."

As his words trailed off, Peacekeeper lifted her head, giving him a long, considerably searching look. "I do know one place we could go, Springer," she commented softly. "One of the best medics on Cybertron's there. You said the readouts from Sentinel's ship had him headed to a place called Earth, right?" When Springer nodded, she continued. "Well, Earth is where Optimus Prime's crew managed to capture those Decepticons, and I happen to know that Optimus Prime's crew has Ratchet."

*****

The situation on Earth was not as sunshine and roses as the mechs aboard the Wrecker ship would have hoped. A slight human woman, frizzy red hair a mess about her face as she rushed about the table that may as well have been a huge platform to her. She was doing everything in her admittedly limited power to stop the continued drop in Sari's vital signs, but nothing seemed to be helping. She was near frantic, and helplessness was setting in.

What could she do? She was just a human woman. One human with the life of one very special little girl now resting in her hands. She just didn't know what else to do.

Sometime during this, she drew in a quiet, nervous breath, wringing her hands together fussily as she looked up at Ratchet. "I can't... there's nothing I can do here. What injuries her organic parts took are much too severe and her technological parts... they're shutting the rest of it down. There's nothing I can do to save her!"

Ratchet grimaced. He hadn't wanted to hear that. He had desperately hoped that this woman, this... pediatrician... could do something. But now knowing that she couldn't...

Quietly, he lifted her, being as gentle as he could as he placed her down next to Professor Sumdac, whose hands she took more in a comforting gesture than anything. He stood without saying a word for just a few moments longer, then turned his attention to Optimus. "Get it for me. Please."

The young commander tensed. As much as he did not want to be part of this, Ratchet's tone implied that they had finally run out of options. There was nothing left to do at this point but to use the protoform. Optimus tensed, then quietly complied, getting the white and black fluid metal form from the storage closet before laying it down next to Sari's body. No one knew how this would work... what they could do to make it work. But this was their last hope.

No one wanted to say anything, but the tension was palpable. Ratchet was gently scooping up Sari's still frame in one hand, and his expression immediately turned horridly worried. "I hope this works. Keep fighting, kid... this is the only chance we've got."

Carefully, he shifted, resting her small frame inside the spark chamber of the protoform on the table.

The room went still. Nothing happened. The machines were reading one long, quiet beep as those closest to the girl feared the worst. Then, without warning, the protoform convulsed, spark chamber snapping shut as it began to mold and shift.

When the entire process was done, a pair of pale blue optics opened in an ivory face, staring at a ceiling that seemed much closer than the last time she was laying here. Long-fingered hands clenched into fists and then unclenched, frame shifting as she slowly sat up before one hand flew to a newly acquired chestplate at the odd shift within. "What..." she murmured, quietly looking around the room, the new visual array making her dizzy from all the feedback it was giving. "What happened to me?"

"It was all we could do," Ratchet murmured, pain registering in his tone. "I'm so sorry. We did everything we could, and this was the best we could do to save your life."

"And that's the last thing you'll be doing for a long time, medic!"

How no one had noticed the entry into the room was not surprising. So focused had everyone been on Sari and her plight that it had completely escaped them. But there in the doorway stood Sentinel Prime, hands on his hip plates, scowling. He was flanked by an unfamiliar ink black femme and the jet twins, both looking chagrined and not at all happy with what they knew was coming. "Sentinel?!" Optimus sounded incredulous. "What are you...?!"

The blue mech stormed forward, shoving past Optimus to push Ratchet hard against a nearby piece of equipment. "This is gross misappropriation of government property, medic. What do you have to say for yourself before I slap the cuffs on you here and now?!"

Fury warred with common sense in Ratchet's head, and his anger got the best of him. "Go smelt in the Pit, Sentinel. I did what I did to save a life. It's in my oath as a medic and it's in our duty as Autobots!"

"To help an organic? Don't make me laugh!" Sentinel was sneering. "I've been waiting since the day you walked off with the Magnus hammer, medic. You're under arrest!"

_**To Be Continued...**_


	6. Twisted and Broken

_I do what I can for the good of Cybertron. May not always be what others agree with, and it may not be the most popular option, but what I do is for the greater good. I can see that. I've made mistakes in the past and this is my way of making up for it._

_So why is it that the only person who seems to be able to see that I'm only doing what's best for everyone else... is me?_

_**Last Rites**_

_Part Six: Twisted and Broken_

It was Optimus who first reacted to Sentinel's actions, reaching out to pull the other Prime off his friend. "Now wait just a minute, Sentinel!" he growled. "Ratchet is doing what he has to! He had no other choice to save the girl's life!"

"And there are also laws about interacting with organics, in case you've forgotten!" Sentinel was shoving Optimus's hand away as he spoke. "Or have you just completely ignored the fact that Elita-1 is dead because of you?"

If ever there existed a straw that broke the camel's back, that was it. Optimus's jaw clenched as one hand drew back, delivering a right hook directly to Sentinel's jaw, the likes of which most of his fellows had never seen. "Liar!" he cried. "None of that would've happened if you hadn't insisted we'd gone!"

Ratchet was quick to act, moving Professor Sumdac and Dr. Bradford out of the way of any ensuing scuffle, setting them next to Sari where she still sat, foggy and confused, on the medtable. The jet twins were moving to try to intervene, but Spinout had vanished from sight. This may have started about Sari and Ratchet... but now, something deep was eating away at both young commanders and it was a scenario all present knew they had to let play out or it would only happen again in the future.

In response to the sudden assault of his former friend, Sentinel gave a low growl, scowling up at Optimus bitterly. "You were the senior cadet on duty that day, Optimus! It was your job to stop us!"

"I shouldn't be held responsible for your mistakes!" Optimus was visibly shaking now, barely restraining himself from the sound thrashing he so desperately wanted to deliver. "You wouldn't have listened to me! No... no, you didn't listen! I told you both it wasn't safe and you decided to go anyway! You wouldn't leave when I asked you to! She wouldn't have suffered as much as she has if you hadn't been such a damn stubborn idiot! You disobeyed a direct order from your senior!"

That caught the attention of both Jetstorm and Jetfire as the argument raged. Both boys, whose entire careers had practically been built on how they idolized Sentinel, looked to their commander with such stunned expressions that it was almost painful. Sentinel had disobeyed a direct order? And then he had lied about it? Not only to everyone he knew, but to the Magnus himself?

It couldn't be!

But neither Sentinel nor Optimus noticed right now. They were too focused on each other, and on any further barbs or whether this is where punches should start flying. Ratchet frowned, slinking back slightly. Where was Jazz when you needed him?

*****

As for the cyberninja, he had other plans in mind. Something was drawing him to the Elite Guard ship. He was not sure exactly what it was, but it was here and he had to find it. His optics narrowed behind his visor, he moved through the corridors with practiced ease, skilled and silent. He had seen those who had exited the shuttle... the jet twins, Sentinel, and one of Master Yoketron's former students. No way of telling if there was anyone else on-board.

His footsteps echoed hollow in the empty passageways as he headed down to the brig, his spark urging him on as he became more and more sure of exactly what he was after. Part of him was tempted, when he passed the first cell, to stop and give Lockdown another few for Prowl's sake, but seeing the state of the bounty hunter made him think twice. Looked like someone else had beaten him to the punch.

That was when he stepped on to the second cell, and his spark skipped a pulse.

"Prowl?"

He didn't wait for an answer. He moved without thinking, unlocking the cell door and moving inside to unlock the stasis cuffs as well. "Jazz..."

The quiet, worried tone of the other mech's voice was an absolute joy to hear. Something of Prowl was back, even if it was only a small bit. Quietly, he drew the other ninja close, resting their foreheads together as he drank in his presence. "It really is you."

"I'm sorry, Jazz." Prowl's words were laced with guilt and regret. "I... my processor is still fuzzy. I can remember only small pieces of facts... whispers of memory I cannot quite seem to grasp. I remember hurting Sari... and what I said to you. All I can truly do is apologize..."

Jazz immediately shook his head. "No. You don't gotta apologize for nothin', Prowl. He forced you into this. You didn't have a choice in the matter. We'll talk to the Magnus. He's gotta understand."

"The acting one won't." The voice came from behind the pair, and Jazz immediately swiveled, keeping Prowl close despite wanting to see who it was. It was Spinout, her expression as calm as her apparent demeanor. "But I can get you in touch with Ultra Magnus. We've more to explain to him than just what's transpired here. I have an... interesting recording to show him."

Sitting up slightly, still bracing Prowl's frame, Jazz eyed the femme with no small amount of scrutiny. "A recording?"

The femme nodded, motioning for them to follow her toward the bridge. Still wary, Jazz climbed to his feet, helping Prowl stand before walking along behind her. "Ultra Magnus had long suspected something to be amiss with the report of a situation Optimus and Sentinel Prime had been in long before the prior became commander of this unit. Something I just had the opportunity to overhear confirmed his suspicions. I must transfer the information back to him... and it will be a prime opportunity for Prowl to explain what has happened to him."

"And you're sure he'll listen?" Jazz questioned, still skeptical.

There was a faint smile that crossed the femme's lips as she glanced back at him, and it was an expression Jazz recognized fully. "He will listen. You've no need to worry about that."

She was quiet for most of the rest of the way as they walked, her attention focused, flipping open a panel on her arm and plugging it into the console upon arrival. The face that popped up was not Ultra Magnus, however... but a little silver femme with a translucent blue visor who chirped an odd greeting at them as soon as the connection was made.

"Steeplechase," Spinout greeted, "we've need to speak to Ultra Magnus. Can you connect us to the clinic?"

The femme answered in a number of chirps and whistles, beeping and trilling in electronic feedback as she relayed her message. -Yes,- the present mechs translated without any preamble. -I see Jazz is with you, as well. I'm as happy to hear from him as I'm sure Ultra Magnus will be.-

Jazz couldn't resist a faint chuckle. "Shoulda figured you'd be the comm liaison these days, kiddo," he teased gently, though there was a certain affection to his words. "You've done good for yourself... and it seems you've finally got the wings on your insignia there. You've done me proud."

Steeplechase gave a faintly embarrassed trill in response, but did not let that deter her from the mission at hand. She continued transmitting those odd sounds for a bit longer. -I will put you through. By the way, Jazz... you ought to visit Mezzo and Forte at the Auditorium when you have a chance. You look exhausted, and you would probably have a chance to rest.- She paused, then, the antennae on her helm twitching up and down faintly. -Connection made. Opening secure line to medical facility now. Take care.-

Her image blinked out shortly after, and as they waited to see Ultra Magnus appear on the screen, Spinout cast Jazz a wry look. "Friend of yours?"

"She grew up at the same place as me... the Iacon Mechopera Auditorium. She considers me a big brother and so I treat her like a little sister. All works out," Jazz responded. He nodded toward the screen, then. "We got visual."

The face of the commander when he appeared on the screen was somewhat more healthy than when Jazz had last seen him, which was a definite boon to his confidence. Sentinel, he knew, would not be in charge forever... and it was something that gave him true hope. "Spinout, Jazz," he greeted amicably. "...and I see, Spinout, that your mission has been a success."

"Only in finding Prowl, Sir." Spinout was matter-of-fact, now, her doorwings swept back gracefully. "He was being controlled by the bounty hunter Lockdown, who has been subdued... ironically after Prowl regained cognitive thought. My concern, however, is Sentinel Prime." Here, she played back the recording of the argument in the medbay... one she hoped was under control by this point. "Your suspicions were correct."

Ultra Magnus's expression turned grim, nodding slowly as he listened to the playback. "I feared it was. Jazz, take Prowl to your medic and see to it that he is stable. I want to know that whatever it was Lockdown did to him was not permanent, and if his spark will sustain itself now that he's broken away from the code directing him to do harm. Spinout? You know what to do."

The femme gave a short, sharp bow. "Of course, sir."

As the image vanished from the screen, Jazz rested his hand against Prowl's chestplate. "All we need is to see Ratchet, then? Well, that's easy enough. C'mon. We should get down to the medbay."

But Spinout was not listening. She was gazing out a viewport, optics narrowed, as a second ship came in to land near the Elite Guard flagship. "That may be easier said than done," she murmured. "We have company."

*****

On Chaar, the situation was surprisingly calm, despite the air of unease that ran through the lower ranked prisoners swept up in the hostile takeover Shockwave had pulled. Megatron had risen from the Deep Down with no announcement to his arrival, and those unfamiliar with the tyrant had not truly realized how foolish it may be not to give in to his might and power.

"Our glorious leader returns to us!" Lugnut was crowing near the back of the crowd, though he was easily loud enough to be heard over the din of the crowd. "Kneel in servitude, ignorant cretins! Kneel to your lord and master!"

If Shockwave could have, he would have rolled his optics, but as it stood, he simply strode forward in front of the gathered prisoners, never once walking to the side of or in front of Megatron himself. No, their leader would always remain ahead. It was his way.

"We have amassed quite an army here, Shockwave," the tyrant was commenting. "This will be the perfect staging grounds for us to take back the world that is rightfully ours and was taken from us so brutally. I did not survive a millennia in those accursed mines only to rise up and fail when the hour was finally ours to command." He looked out over the assembled faces and raised his voice. "My fellow Decepticons... the time has come for us to take back our sparkedright. Eons ago, we were forced into slavery and indentured servitude at the hands of the elite... the elite who became known as Autobots. But no longer. They may have forgotten why this war raged, but never shall I."

Near the front, a smaller bot stepped forward, his fists clenched as his optics narrowed. "And why should we follow you?! You were crushed... twice! Your rule is worthless! You would have us die for a cause you lost centuries ago!"

Megatron did not mince words, or bother greatly with this insect. He simply fired one single, powerful shot from the cannon on his arm, reducing the protestor to a screaming pile of char and metal as his internal systems began to shut down from system overload. Frightened, many of the other prisoners scattered, though their optics remained on Megatron's massive frame. Shockwave stood next to him, single optic glowing coldly at the gathered. "Would anyone else care to question his divinity?"

The response was unanimous. Shouts of "no!" and "we will follow!" carried over the crowd as the last dying rasps from the mortally wounded prisoner were drowned in the cacophony of voices rising up to pledge fealty to Megatron.

*****

Back in the medbay, the fight had finally started to cool down. Optimus's temper had started to ease back, and the one lax moment had given Sentinel the opening he'd needed. Grabbing the smaller mech by the wrist, he twisted an arm behind him, pinning him to the wall front-first. "That's it!" he shouted. "I've had it with this! I'm done listening to you and I'm done taking this slag from you, Optimus! You want to put a cap on your career? Fine! You and the medic are both under arrest!" Everyone else was helpless to intervene. Bulkhead was not present in the room, and Sari was much too dazed to really say much to the Prime who now no longer looked as intimidating as he did when she had been much smaller. Bumblebee may have been there, but he knew this was one fight he wouldn't be able to win. "And that... thing," now he was indicating Sari, "is going back to Cybertron with us for further study!"

"You can't do that!" Ratchet bellowed. "She's just a kid! She hasn't done anything wrong! It was a Cybertronian that hurt her, and by the Allspark it should be a Cybertronian that saves her life! there's been no crime committed here!"

Sentinel harrumphed bitterly. "There has been. There've been so many I chose to overlook and that Ultra Magnus foolishly stood aside from that it's high time things get settled. I'm the acting Magnus now... and this ends right here. I'll see to it that you never step foot outside a Cybertronian prison hall for the rest of your natural lifespan, medic!"

Perhaps he could have chosen his words more carefully, and the tone with which he said them. But then, Sentinel could not have known what was coming. As the last words left Sentinel's vocalizer, a fist connected hard with the side of his helm, sending him sprawling. What stood there was an angry looking red mech, one arm attached by some miracle of the Allspark while the other was poised and ready for another strike. Behind him stood Springer, the leader of the Wreckers, who was assisting with the transport of a number of wounded from what Sentinel could only imagine had been a failed assault on Chaar. He recognized the medic Peacekeeper, whose expression was one of vague satisfaction on seeing the red mech finally dole out the justice he had wanted to for so long.

"I'd ask Sideswipe to stand down," she was saying, tone casual but cold, "but honestly, I don't think he'd listen. Don't think I'd blame him either, considering you just threatened to incarcerate the mech that raised him and his brother." Sentinel was staring in shock, especially now that Sideswipe's functioning hand had retreated into his arm, only to be replaced by a rapidly thrumming pile-driver. "So how 'bout this. You stand down and we won't let him pound you into scrap like the rest of us know you deserve."

Immediately, Sentinel drew back. The twin brothers known as Sunstreaker and Sideswipe had quite the reputation, and most of it involved being violent and volatile when provoked. Judging by what he could see of the yellow twin's condition from where he was being carried by Quickswitch, the Chaar mission had given the boy every reason in the world to be provoked.

Optimus was slowly drawing himself to his feet, glancing back over the Wreckers nearby. None of them looked familiar to him save for Rodimus, who he had been on missions with when the mech was still very new to the academy. Ratchet, however, had stepped forward to intercept. "Easy, Sideswipe!" he pleaded. "Just keep him down for now. We need to get things settled and then I'll look at you and your brother. All right, kid?"

Sideswipe's expression when he looked up at the medic was at first unreadable, but finally his shoulders just slumped. Retracting the pile-driver, he walked over to where Ratchet was standing near Sari, looking over the girl's recently acquired frame with something between appreciation and curiosity before looking to Bumblebee, who had immediately gone from worried to protective. "Don't worry, shorty. Not gonna hit on your femme. She just seems different is all."

"We'll worry about that later," Ratchet huffed, turning back to the situation at hand. By now Spinout had returned, this time with Jazz and Prowl behind her, and her expression was surprisingly stiff. "Looks like your lady friend's a bit irate, Sentinel."

Sentinel, standing shakily after Sideswipe's rather impromptu assault, scowled for a moment. "She's not my lady friend. She's a filthy mercenary that I'm not entirely sure why I have to put up with." He glared at her as she regarded him with a cool, calm gaze. "What?!"

"Our mission here is done," Spinout replied calmly. "You have determined the source of the disturbance on Earth. Lockdown is in custody, and there are more pressing medical needs here to be addressed than a single protoform being used to save a life. Which, as I recall, is not considered against any military protocol for our race. I fail to see why it should be any different for hers."

Immediately the blue mech was up in arms, ignoring the fact that Sari's pale blue optics had turned toward him now. She did not seem quite so unCybertronian, her lithe frame not unlike how Elita-1 had looked before the incident that had changed her forever. "It is different for her race because she's an organic! They... they...!"

"Have the same right to freedom as any sentient being," Optimus growled out, standing straight. "You've more than worn out your welcome, Sentinel. You're outnumbered. If Ultra Magnus wants to come down on us hard, then so be it, but I'm not taking any more slag from you. Not today, and not ever."

It normally wasn't in Sentinel Prime's nature to back down. But for once, he had to concede that Optimus had a point. His concern was this getting out to Ultra Magnus. No concern of that, of course. None of the mechs here save that cyberninja femme, and she had vanished by the time the actual brawling occurred and the accusations started to fly.

So he stood straight, scowling at the collected faces around the room, and finally retreated, barking a harsh order. "Jetfire, Jetstorm, with me. We're going to report exactly what we've found to Ultra Magnus. Word for word."

He let that hang in the air as the nervous twins, unsettled by what they had seen and heard, cast worried glances at the crowd. They dared not go against orders, however, and quickly rushed behind him. It was Spinout who stayed longest, her expression becoming one of exasperation. "I apologize for this. I know it is not much, seeing as how he is not the one apologizing, but please... accept this much. Hopefully, with the information Ultra Magnus now has... this won't be a problem for you in the future."

She did not let anyone speak to her. She only turned and strode out. Optimus simply sighed, pressing a palm against his forehead as he tried to calm himself. "Did I really just do that?" Before anyone could answer, he shook his head. "Don't answer. We have more pressing matters. I see we have more guests..."

"Springer," the green mech filled in. "I'll introduce the rest of my team later. Looks like you've had quite a party."

Ratchet nodded at that, looking toward Bumblebee and Sari now. The little yellow mech was sitting on the table next to his friend, watching her for any kind of reaction, brow furrowed. "Sari?" he murmured. "Are you okay?"

The girl just shook her head. "I'm... not really entirely sure, actually." She leaned on his shoulder, looking mildly disconcerted at just being able to perform that simple action, her frame trembling faintly. "Look at me. I'm... I don't even know how this happened." Sari's head lifted, and for a moment, she gazed at Ratchet, whose expression of remorse and helplessness was almost as striking as her own feelings seemed. Then, her optics caught sight of Prowl, still leaning against Jazz and watching her with something that bordered near horror and shame at what he had done. "Prowl..."

The black and gold mech regarded her for a moment longer, then looked down at away, his jaw clenched. "Sari... I cannot even begin to express how terrible I feel for what I did to you. This... what you are now... what has happened to you... I cannot even apologize without it feeling hollow. I'm so sorry."

The girl did not make optic contact with him. She just stayed close to Bumblebee, gazing down at Professor Sumdac and Dr. Bradford, who were now looking up at her with shock of their own. But neither one seemed afraid. At least she had that to rely on.

Near where Sideswipe was still standing, working on regaining his composure in light of what had happened, Peacekeeper stepped forward, watching Ratchet carefully. "It's good to see you again, Chief Medical Officer Ratchet."

The collected Wreckers looked on curiously as the old medic sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Guess I couldn't run from that forever? Hope you've been well, Peacekeeper. We've got a lot to talk about." He glanced around the room, over his team around him, around the many gathered. "But that can wait. There's more important things to be done."

He felt horrible, to be brutally honest. Everything that had transpired today... he couldn't shake the feeling that it was all going to tumble down around them. He wasn't sure what exactly was wrong, but it was something in his tanks he just couldn't shake. For now, all he could do was give support where he was able and hope that this whole mess would turn out all right in the end.

*****

The Elite Guard flagship was among the faster crafts in the galaxy, but that didn't mean that the journey felt quick for its inhabitants. All of them wanted off, if only for the opportunity to try to put behind them the awful events of earlier that day. Down in the brig, Lockdown remained with the stasis cuffs locked firmly on his wrists.

Down there in the dark and the quiet, his optics glowed bright red as his thoughts turned to those decidedly more sinister as his fists slowly clenched, despite the stasis cuffs holding his wrists.

Vengeance may not have been a noble pursuit...

...but he knew he could find a certain joy in it.

_**To Be Concluded...**_


	7. Epilogue: Dark and Winding Road

_**Last Rites**_

_Epilogue: Dark and Winding Road_

The room seemed stuffy since he had left it. With all the thoughts going through Prowl's processor right now anyway, it was a wonder he could even truly focus on that much. He stared at the tree, which had grown a bit unruly in the months he'd been away. He would have to tend to it. Perhaps he could find some tranquility in the action where it felt all had been lost in his life.

He could hear Jazz approaching from behind him, and felt the touch on his shoulder fins almost before the other cyberninja's fingers even landed. "You've been spendin' a lot of time alone, Prowler," he was commenting softly. "You really should try to get back to talkin' with your team. They miss you. Much as it may not seem that way."

"I don't even know where I would start," Prowl sighed. "None of this would've happened if not for--..."

"Lockdown," Jazz interrupted, expression stern. "I can't make you believe what I'm saying, mech, but I can try. He used you. Forced you to do what he wanted. This – none of this – is your fault." He sighed, running a hand up and down one of the long black and gold fins. "I know that's hard for you to believe or accept. I know how difficult all of this is. But you have to believe me."

Prowl gave a sad smile... the same one he had given the day he had given his lifeforce to the Allspark to save the city. "It isn't that I don't believe you, Jazz. It's that sometimes, though the reality is much more kind... it's the fantasy we can't tear ourselves away from."

Sighing, Jazz slipped around in front of his mate, resting their foreheads together for a long, trying moment. "This is as hard for you as it is for any of us, Prowler. Just don't let it consume you. None of us would survive losin' you a second time."

The smaller cyberninja gave a quiet sigh in response to that, his hands slipping up to frame Jazz's face for one long, needed moment. "I'm not going anywhere this time, Jazz. You've no need to worry about that. Not even in the slightest."

*****

Adjusting to the new height was only one of the many things Sari was fighting to overcome since her ordeal. Bumblebee had been helpful, of course, but there was only so much he could do. Her father had been uneasy about the whole thing, and though he was trying, she could tell the stress was hard on him. There wasn't any real way for her to console him, either. The general consensus at this point was that her human body, the one currently locked in suspended animation within the spark chamber of her new frame, was past any hope of ever being repaired fully. The body she now inhabited was a permanent fixture. Sure, she had always wondered what it was like to look like this, but now...

Curled up as she was on the couch in the living area, she normally would have noticed when Bumblebee slunk in, sitting down beside her in silence. It took a while before he finally acted, reaching out to nervously place his arm around her shoulders. "You gonna be okay, Sari?" he questioned softly. "I asked before... but your answer was kinda off."

"Tough question to answer." The girl did not look at him. "I don't know what to do, Bumblebee. A year ago, I was a normal little girl with the same problems normal little girls have. And now? Now anything I ever had that even vaguely resembled a normal life is gone and look at me! I'm a giant robot!" There was a terse pause before she shifted her glance over to him. "I mean... no offense and all. You guys are great and the best things that've ever happened to me, but..."

Bumblebee's browridge furrowed. "But you're not sure if this is what you wanted."

Sighing, Sari tucked her knees up further against her chestplate. "How can anyone be sure about something like this? It's not like I had a choice. I don't hate Ratchet for it. I can't. I mean, I'd be dead now if he hadn't done this. But what am I supposed to say? How am I supposed to react?"

Silence fell after that, with both parties sitting and contemplating the situation, though Bumblebee honestly wished he had something he could say that was more comforting than a simple "it'll be okay." Finally, he sighed and looked at her solidly. "Hey. No one's saying you've gotta be comfortable with this, but no matter how long it takes, you know I'll... we'll... always be here to help you through it. You're part of our family. And this is what family does for each other, right?"

A small smile finally graced the girl's features, and Bumblebee grinned in response as she looked up and over at him. "You really need to stop being so hard to frown around." She hadn't stopped smiling, though, and Bumblebee considered that a step in the right direction. "Don't know what it is. But for some reason, no matter how down I get... you're always there to pull me out of it."

The silence that followed this time was more comfortable as Sari leaned to rest against Bumblebee's shoulder, her optics dimming out. Everything was such a whirlwind of strange new situations and uncomfortable new things, but in the end, she was alive. She would learn to get through this, both with her friends and with her family.

And she hoped everything would be okay.

*****

After the initial bustle and hurry of the repairs had passed, the medbay had fallen relatively still and silent. Ratchet was sitting off to one side, looking at the mechs and femmes on makeshift berths, though his optics lingered longer than anyone else's might've on the frames of the two young mechs who had stayed so close to Peacekeeper the whole time.

Finally leaving Red Alert to doze quietly nestled against Inferno, the old femme moved over to plunk herself down next to Ratchet with a quiet sigh. "I'm sure they would've been excited when I mentioned who we were coming to find, if Sunstreaker hadn't been so severely injured," she was saying. "They missed you."

"I can't for the life of me figure out why," Ratchet sighed in response. "I abandoned them. I abandoned Wheeljack, and for what? Even when I saw him there, working on the Omega project... I knew he hadn't chosen that path for himself. He couldn't have told me about it even if he'd wanted to." He paused. "How is he, anyway? I see he's not here, but the boys are."

Peacekeeper shrugged absently, rolling a stiff shoulder. "After you left, he started burying himself further and further into his work. Perceptor did his best to keep him busy. But he just couldn't focus on the boys as much as he felt he ought to, and I was getting ready to leave Iacon anyway. So he asked me to look after them."

"They needed their creators to be there for them." Ratchet's tone was quiet and distant, but his words held weight. He and Wheeljack were not the actual creators of the twin Autobots dozing peacefully on the table nearby, but they had raised them as their own after their single spark and protoform had split into two during a time when spark-split twins were considered a terrible omen. Perhaps that was why Wheeljack had felt such a connection working on Jetstorm and Jetfire. "And we weren't. We let them down."

Sighing, the medic femme leaned back in the seat she'd taken. "You know, I don't think they've ever once thought that. You and Wheeljack are the world to them. It's always been obvious." A smile crossed her face. "You did good, you know... saving that organic kid's life. You seem pretty close to her."

Ratchet just shrugged right back at her. "I guess I superimposed all my guilt about leaving my boys behind onto her... and took care of her accordingly. Tried not to. But I guess I just got a soft spot for kids." The old mech pushed to his feet at that, walking over to where Sunstreaker and Sideswipe had somehow managed to curl themselves into one lump of red and yellow armor, helms touching, optics offline. One hand on each helm, he smiled a little. "But it's good to have them home again. I'd been worrying. It's good to see them both in good condition."

"And this time," Peacekeeper stated calmly, "I doubt they'll be willing to go anywhere without you. Now all you need is Wheeljack to complete the set."

Chuckling, Ratchet lifted his head to look at her, unaware that the boys had powered on their optics to watch him quietly. "If he wants to find me, you know I wouldn't turn him down. I've missed him fiercely. Wherever he is, I hope he's doing well. Maybe someday... he'll find it in himself to forgive me."

*****

Sitting by himself was a practice Optimus had avoided for some time. He did not like to hear the sound of his own thoughts, or focus on the things that were bothering him and him alone. He didn't want to sit and consider for too long the ramifications of his actions... especially not those of earlier that week. Sentinel would come down hard after this, but in his mind, it was worth it.

Wasn't it?

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, trying to focus on anything but the ramifications of his actions and how they would affect his team. Which had grown, hadn't it? It wasn't just a handful of mechs thrown together by circumstance, but instead, they now had some actual trained warriors joining them. He didn't know any of the Wreckers well, but they were all willing to lend a servo wherever it was needed... especially in turning the old factory into an actual base of operations.

But how long could this peace last? He had come to discover, since his youth, that nothing was ever easy. He was younger brother to one of the most powerful mechs on Cybertron... a fact so few knew. Never once had he played favorites, and it was that same relation that had stripped him of his honors when he had stood by and allowed Sentinel to lie through his dental plating about the truth behind Elita-1's loss. Perhaps it was because he couldn't face the one mech who had always believed in him with the fact that he had failed.

And now, after all this? How could he even consider facing Ultra Magnus again?

His expression tightened. He could not let himself get caught up in this. If what Springer had told them was any indication, Chaar was lost and now they had to focus on the bigger problem: a planet full of Decepticon war criminals ready and willing to restart the Great Wars. Cybertron was in no state to handle this again... and Earth did not deserve to take the brunt of Megatron's ire. Something had to be done. It was just figuring out what, exactly, that was the problem.

Standing, the young commander made his way back inside the base, passing Springer as he went. "Hey, Optimus" the big green mech greeted. He had rather taken to the young Prime, if only because he seemed considerably more personable and outgoing than Sentinel ever had. "You look like you've got a lot on your processor."

"Understatement of the century," Optimus returned, expression as rueful as his tone. "Your team settling in okay?"

Springer shrugged. "Decent enough, given the circumstances. Quickswitch is having difficulty getting used to having quarters that size, but he'll manage. That chrysaline form he has can recharge curled into a ball." A smile crossed his face, giving him a look that was much more friendly than most mechs would have given him credit for. "I really want to thank you for letting us stay. We've been drifters for so long... it's nice to have a place to call home."

The thought of a home for any of the mechs present did finally make Optimus smile, and he glanced at the Wrecker commander. "Well, you're more than welcome here."

"Glad for that." After a moment of silence that followed, Springer sighed. "Megatron's not gonna stop now that he has control of Chaar. He has a bigger army under him... and he's gonna come gunning for you. At least, that's what it sounded like to me. So what do we do now?"

Optimus's optics narrowed sharply. "We prepare."

*****

In a science lab stationed in the heart of Metroplex, somewhere near the outskirts of Iacon, a lone mech was working quietly on the examination of the husked out shell of a body before him. Starscream had once been among the most feared warriors in the galaxy... and now, here he lay, broken and battered, with nothing left of him but his empty husk. "Alas, Starscream," Perceptor's electronic voice buzzed out. "It would seem your days truly were numbered."

He turned his back, distracted by some readings on the levels of Allspark energy from the body, and in doing so, he missed the faint movement from Starscream's frame. His fingers twitched and his wings shifted.

Blood red optics powered on, but only briefly.

It was only the beginning.

_**End**_


End file.
